Far Away From Here
by zayjayoriginals
Summary: Two fathers, and two sons-all thrust into notoriety by circumstance of birth. Now Draco and Scorpius, and Harry and Albus each reach the crossroads of self-discovery which will lead them all on an adventure intertwining their lives in a way none of them could imagine. EWE. HP/DM and AP/SM includes slash. Grief, angst, and surprises.
1. Five-Finger Discount

_Summer 2019—Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire_

Narcissa Malfoy stood at the window of the lodge, where she and her husband had resided since their son Draco had wed seventeen years prior. It was located on the northern side of the expansive Wiltshire estate that the Malfoys had held since the eleventh century. The comfortable house was significantly smaller than the manor, where her son and his family now resided, but certainly no less lavish. The three-story stone house was tucked into a hillside that overlooked one of the many small lakes on the property.

It was across the water that Narcissa gazed upon her only child, standing at the shoreline. The light afternoon breeze lifted his long, pale hair and ruffled his robes. His shoulders drooped, and he stood with his hands shoved into his pockets and his head bowed.

Draco pursed his lips when he heard the soft pop behind him. He really hadn't the desire to speak to anyone just now, and regretted coming to this spot to wallow in his melancholy.

"I am, quite honestly, disinclined to converse at the moment, Mother," he said, without turning. He watched a swan gliding along the water.

"I don't wish to disturb you, my darling," she replied. Draco rolled his eyes. He knew that her words and her actions were miles apart. He continued to watch the graceful bird, and waited for her to continue. "Where is Scorpius?" she asked.

"Still in his rooms."

"He mustn't be alone at a time like this, Draco." Narcissa stepped forward and placed a hand upon his shoulder.

"I know that, Mother, but I won't force him to put on a brave face just for the sake of appearances. He'll have plenty of time for that at the funeral. He is still a child, you know."

"Of course, my son, but Scorpius must learn that he cannot run and hide every time things go wrong. That is not the way of a Malfoy. You—"

"He _isn't me!_ " Draco snapped as he spun to face his mother. "Scorpius will be his own man, Mother! He will be a better wizard than I ever was at his age!"

"Really? And what sort might that be—a petulant eremite who would reject his family heritage for the _privilege_ of currying favor with the likes of Harry Potter?"

"Good day, Mother." Draco disapparated, leaving Narcissa standing alone.

* * *

 _Summer 2019—Number Twelve Grimmauld Place_

"Why not?" Albus Potter demanded.

"I don't think I like your tone, Albus." Harry Potter gave his younger son a stern look.

"But Dad, she just said 'no'!" Albus insisted. "Why can't I go? He'll be all alone!"

"He won't be all alone, Al. Stop being dramatic, and finish your meal. They'll be here soon!" Albus slouched in his chair. His older brother, James, and younger sister, Lily looked from him to their parents as if they were watching a tennis match.

"I'm not hungry," he muttered.

"Listen, Al. Your mother and I are still processing this friendship you have with Scorpius. We just don't know if it is advisable for you to attend his mother's funeral," said Harry. He sliced his roast and took a bite.

"That's not fair! He's my best mate! What if you were my age and Gran had died?" Albus stated. Ginny inhaled sharply. "Wouldn't you want to be there?"

"It's not the same," his mother replied.

"How?"

"Because Gran's the closest thing I've ever had to a Mum," said Harry.

"Eat, Albus!" Ginny admonished him again.

"I said I'm not hungry."

"Well, you're not going to twist your aunt and uncle's arms to buy you a ton of junk food at the cinema," she said.

"I don't even want to go!"

"Al—" Harry began.

"I _don't!_ Rosie's just going to give me the cold shoulder and make snarky remarks about me being a Slytherin and Scorpius being my friend! She's so rude! Scorpius has been nothing but nice to her—I think he might fancy her, actually." James stifled a laugh. He glared at him. "What?"

"Malfoy does _not_ fancy Rose!" James stated, emphatically. "That's hardly why he's being kind to her." He smirked.

"Well— _whatever!_ " Albus decided not to engage his brother. Although James wasn't mean to Scorpius, he wasn't exactly nice either, and he decided that arguing with him would not help his case just now. " _Please,_ Mum, Dad! Scorpius _asked_ me to come! He says his father gave him permission and everything! "

There was a soft gong, alerting them to the floo.

"They're here," Harry announced, getting to his feet.

"You kids run along, and get cleaned up," said Ginny. James and Lily hurriedly left the table. Albus continued to slouch sullenly.

"Albus."

"I _don't_ want to go." Albus stood and began to clear the table. As he edged past his father to get to the sink, Harry laid a hand on his arm.

"Al—"

"Please, Dad. What if it had been your mum? Uncle Ron would have moved heaven and earth to be there," he quietly pleaded. Harry sighed heavily.

"I'm not making any promises, but I'll talk to your mother about it."

The following week, Scorpius Malfoy sprinted down the lane between the hedgerows at Malfoy Manor and threw his arms around his best friend when he appeared with his father. The two young wizards held tightly to one another's hand as Astoria Malfoy was laid to rest at the base of the domed folly where she and her husband had been married.

* * *

 _August 2021_

The security guard kept his eyes trained upon the teenager with the pale hair as he moved about the shopping center, and radioed the loss prevention personnel on the floor.

"I've got a teen male in Oasis, fellas. Be prepared to apprehend on my call. Looks to be about fourteen to fifteen years old. Blond hair—possibly white—these kids today! Yep, he's just picked up a number of shirts and placed them in a rucksack. He's just left the store. Follow him. Looks like he's headed for the street."

The two guards kept a safe distance from the teen as they followed him towards the main level of the shopping center. One gestured for the other to take a different route and cut the boy off at the bottom of the stairs.

"Hang on, mate," the first guard called out, jogging a step forward and touching the boy's shoulder. "Get lots of shopping done then?" The boy turned and looked at him with disdain.

"I might have done."

"Got any receipts?" asked another guard as he cut off the exit.

"Beg your pardon?"

"Did you pay for your items, son?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. Do you _see_ me with any purchases?"

"What's in the bag?" The second guard reached for the young man's backpack.

"That's nothing of your concern!" the boy replied, tersely.

"Okay, well you'll have to come with us then." The guard gestured for the boy to accompany him. The boy backed away tugging at a necklace inside his collar.

"This way now, lad. Let's not make a scene," said the other guard, stepping towards him.

"No." The boy smiled, fingering the ring that hung from the chain a second before he disappeared into thin air leaving the two men and nearby shoppers completely bewildered.

Scorpius landed in the large fountain in the front garden of Malfoy Manor with a splash, having misjudged his landing by a few feet. He stepped out of the water with a laugh and an expression of amusement which quickly disappeared when his father suddenly appeared in front of him.

" _Arificus._ " Draco cast a drying spell upon his son and pointed towards the grand house. "My study, _now!_ " he growled. Scorpius heaved a sigh and marched sullenly ahead of his father.

He was stunned to find Harry Potter seated in one of the chairs before the desk, when they entered the study a few moments later.

"Mr. Potter! Fancy seeing you here!" Scorpius looked around. "Did Albus come with you?"

"I'm afraid not, Scorpius," Harry replied. "This isn't a social call."

"Indeed it isn't!" Draco growled. "Sit!"

"What's going on?" Scorpius asked.

"Potter?" Draco gestured for Harry to speak, and he went to the window, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Scorpius, a theft occurred today at the Angel Central Shopping Centre in Islington."

"Really?" Scorpius asked. "You didn't have to come all this way just to inform us, you know. We do have a subscription to _The Prophet._ "

"Now is not the time for cheek, Scorpius!" Draco snapped, turning from the window.

"I think you are well aware that is not the reason for my visit, Scorpius," Harry replied. Scorpius pulled a nonplussed expression, and he continued. "At approximately the same time, the DMLE received an alert of underage magic in the store's vicinity." Scorpius began to bite his lip. He clutched the strap of his bag. Harry gave him a look. "One of our Aurors obtained CCTV footage and a young man fitting your description was seen, placing merchandise from several shops into a rucksack before appearing to disapparate when confronted by security."

"What were you doing in a muggle shop, Scorpius?" Draco demanded. "Is that what all of _this_ is about?" he gestured at the graphic tee shirt, trainers, and modern trousers he wore. "You've been _stealing!_ And since _when_ do you know how to apparate? You haven't even attained the age of licensure!"

"I used a portkey," Scorpius confessed.

"Oh, _brilliant!_ " Draco threw his hands into the air. "Where is it?" Scorpius shrugged, not meeting his father's eyes. "And Potter tells me this _isn't_ the first time!"

"I—" Scorpius gave Harry a look of mutinous surprise. He thought he'd gotten away with his escapades.

"I covered for you before, because I know that young witches and wizards are prone to rebellion from time to time, but due to the value of the goods, as well as the unauthorized portkey and clear violation of the Statute of Secrecy, it simply can't be overlooked, Scorpius. This pattern of behavior has done little to persuade me that Albus should be allowed to spend time with you."

"All this time! _All this time,_ you'd have had me believe that the muggle attire and artefacts were Potter's influence! Gifts! I am appalled, Scorpius. _Appalled!_ "

"Malfoy—Draco—" Harry was about to begin a well-rehearsed speech on remaining calm when dealing with youth, but Draco gave him a withering glare that clearly indicated he had no intention of taking parenting advice from his childhood nemesis. "Ah, right—erm—now then, Scorpius, I'll have to seize the items that you took. The Wizengamot Office of Juvenile Affairs will convene a hearing in two weeks' time to determine what—if any—disciplinary action will be taken." Harry took possession of the stolen apparel, and Draco saw him to the gate.

"I'm really sorry about all of this, Malfoy. I did try to explain the situation to the presiding Polemarch—"

"Situation?" Draco gave him a bemused look. "What situation?"

"Well, honestly, it's not terribly unusual for youth who have had a—a…loss…to—"

"The time for grieving has come and gone, Potter. Scorpius' behavior is inexcusable, and he must face the consequences of his actions. Thank you for the courtesy of not taking him into custody. I assure you that he will appear at the appointed time and date." Draco gave him a slight bow, and Harry knew that he had been dismissed.

"Well, erm…" he couldn't think of anything to say. "If there is anything I can assist you with, just send an owl, or floo me at home, if you like. Scorpius has our address."

Draco gave another curt nod, and Harry stepped through the gate to disapparate.


	2. Dinner Time is Family Time

"Hello! Anybody there?" Harry called as he stepped out of the floo into the drawing room. A moment later, he heard footfalls on the stairs.

"Hi, Dad." Albus leapt over the last two steps as his father entered the hall.

"Where is everyone?"

"Lily went to the Scamander twins' birthday party, and then she's staying the weekend at Gran's. James is at Junior Quidditch training with Teddy. Mum flooed. She said she's working late There's a press conference about the rumors that Oliver Wood has elected free transfer."

"He is? That's the first I've heard of it. Well, then I guess it's just you and me. How about I take you out for tea this evening?" Harry suggested.

"Really?" Albus gave Harry a look of surprise. It was rare to have his father's undivided attention, unless he'd done something wrong.

"Sure. We can go to the Lucky Chip, yeah?"

"Can I get truffle cheese fries?"

"You bet. Grab your shoes, I'll meet you downstairs."

Several minutes later, the father and son sat across from one another in a booth at the Old Queen's Head pub, which housed the restaurant. Albus pulled a clump of French fries, smothered in truffle sauce and cheese, from the large paper-lined basket, shoving it into his mouth.

"So what did you do all day, son?"

"Homework," Albus replied with a sigh. I've just about got everything completed except Transfiguration, but I've misplaced my star chart for Astronomy. Now I've got to start again, but it's practically _impossible_ to view the night sky from the roof!" he complained.

"I'm sure that you can get it done in time. You grandparents have an excellent and unobstructed view from the garden at the Burrow." Harry sipped his lager.

"Scorpius said I could borrow his if I don't find it. He'd have invited me to the Manor to work on it, but you'd probably say 'no', and anyway, he's grounded until start of term. Is it true that you arrested him for stealing?"

"I didn't _arrest_ Scorpius, Al. Still, he is in a great deal of trouble. It isn't just for theft and underage magic. Violation of the Statute of Secrecy is a serious offense. He could be excluded from school."

" _Expelled_ from Hogwarts? That's not fair!" Albus exclaimed.

"Those are the rules, Albus. I don't make them. I'm sorry. The thing is; this isn't the first time Scorpius has been reported for engaging in such behavior. It can no longer be ignored." Harry signaled the waitress for another pint and heaved a sigh. "Did you…" he shrugged. "Did you know anything about what Scorpius was up to?"

"What exactly are you asking, Dad?" Albus sat up, crossing his arms and glaring suspiciously at Harry. "I don't _steal!_ "

"I'm not accusing you of anything, Al, but I can't overlook the evidence in front of me. Despite whatever minimal change of thinking Draco has come to since the war, the Malfoys still studiously avoid the muggle world. Yet, Scorpius seems to have found his way to London and a shopping center not far from Grimmauld Place."

"I mean, _okay_ , last year Scorpius _did_ sneak away from his father, and met me at the cinema. I just wanted to cheer him up after his mother died, and he was curious about muggle life. We met in Hoxton and went shopping at Goodhood at the end of term—but I _swear—_ I didn't know anything about him stealing! I don't think he really understands muggle money, or maybe he thought his dad would find out if he tried to exchange gold for muggle notes. Dad, you have to help him. Scorpius can't get expelled from Hogwarts!"

"I don't know, Al. What you're telling me isn't exactly persuasive. Why are you so fixated on Scorpius? Isn't it time you made a better effort at expanding your circle of friends?"

"I knew it." Albus shook his head as he gazed out of the window and heaved a sigh. "I knew this wasn't about us spending time together." He pushed away his plate. "You just wanted another opportunity to bash Scorpius and make me out to be a disappointment of a son!"

"That's not true, Albus," Harry argued.

"Isn't it? Do you have any idea how difficult it is to be _your_ son?"

"Al—"

"I'm not a Gryffindor—"

"I don't care about—"

"I'm rubbish at quidditch. I can barely ride a broom. I nearly failed Defense. And if that wasn't the worst of it, you just _can't stand_ that my one and only friend—the _only_ person who cares about me just happens to be the son of your sworn enemy!"

"You are one-hundred percent out of order, young man!" Harry snapped. "How could you even suggest—"

"Because it's _true!_ " Albus cut him off, his voice rising in frustration and ire, drawing the attention of diners seated nearby. "Just admit it, Dad. If Scorpius hadn't nabbed off with all those goods, you'd still be at the office just waiting for your next opportunity to save the world!" He slid out of the booth. "I have to work on my Transfiguration assignment," he muttered before storming out.

Harry heaved a sigh and retrieved a few bills from his wallet, leaving them on the table, before he followed after his son. He didn't call out to Albus as he trailed a few yards back, the ten minute walk back to Grimmauld Place. Albus knew his father was behind him, but he didn't look back. He willed the house to appear before he'd even reached the edge of the gardens, and did not break his stride, touching his wand to the door to open it. Though it would have given him great pleasure to slam it behind him, Albus left the door ajar for Harry. He ran up the stairs to his room where he felt the satisfaction of slamming the door and locking it. Albus paced in circles, his fists tightly clenched as he blinked back angry tears.

"Albus." Harry knocked at the door. He tried the knob and found it locked. "Albus, open the door, please."

Albus ignored his father, throwing himself across his bed. After a moment, he heard Harry mutter an unlocking charm.

" _Alohomora!_ " Harry turned the knob again, but paused. He heaved a sigh and retreated to his study, on the level below.

* * *

"If this is your idea of a joke, young man, I can assure you that we are _not_ amused!" Lucius eyed his grandson with thinly veiled derision.

Scorpius took his seat at the dining table wearing a pair of slim-fitting black jeans, turned up above the ankles, which were shredded down the front, thin grey threads holding them together, and a green graphic tee with the phrase "I am magic" on the front in glittery silver lettering. On his feet were grey skate shoes, and a grey and black, plaid flannel shirt was tied about his waist. His pale hair was styled with a fringe cut, his bangs hanging long over his forehead.

"Draco, my love, your father and I realize that you and Scorpius have had a very trying time over these last two years. However, indulging in _muggle_ whims and— _fashion—_ or whatever this atrocity is called—"

"Scorpius, I demand that you return to your rooms and attire yourself properly for dinner." Lucius gave his grandson a haughty stare.

"You're not my father," Scorpius replied sullenly.

"Scorpius!" Draco admonished tiredly.

"How _dare_ you speak to me like that!" Lucius snarled.

"Don't be impudent, Scorpius," said Narcissa. "Apologize to your grandfather at once."

"No!"

"You see?" Lucius turned to Draco with an accusatory glare. "This is what your abandonment of proper breeding and tradition has spawned!" He stabbed his finger towards Scorpius. "You allowed Astoria to coddle him, and now you've abdicated your parental responsibility completely!"

"You go too far, Father," Draco replied, struggling to maintain his composure.

"I rather think I don't go far enough!" Lucius retorted. "I suppose Potter and his lot have something to do with this—this _unseemly_ and garish ensemble?"

"Oh, for _fuck's sake, Father!_ Just grow a spine and stand up to him _just once!_ " Scorpius yelled, banging his fist on the table. "If it wasn't for Harry Potter, he wouldn't even be sitting here dressing you down like this! I wouldn't even exist because all of you would be in Azkaban or _dead—_ just like Mum! How can you let him insult her like that?"

"Scorpius—" Draco began, but Scorpius ignored him, turning his anger upon his grandparents.

"You can sit in your stupid lodge clinging to the traditions of the past, but you have _no right_ to act like you're so _superior!_ You know what you did!" he yelled, getting to his feet. "You have blood on your wand, Grandfather! And you, Grandmother, were silently complicit in _everything!_ You made your _only son_ take the Dark Mark! It's in all of the history books! Everyone knows! Do you have _any_ idea what it's like to sit through History of Magic and hear about _every dastardly thing_ your own family took part in—nearly destroying all of wizardkind? For what? We were already the wealthiest wizarding family in England—one of the wealthiest in all of Europe! You didn't even need him! He needed _you!_ You made me a _social pariah! You did!_ You and your pureblood fanaticism! I haven't a _single friend_ besides Albus Potter! Everyone thinks I'm the spawn of _Voldemort!_ " At the mention of the Dark Lord's name, Scorpius' father and grandparents all drew a sharp intake of breath.

"You've done _nothing_ with your second chance! At least Father and Mother made some attempt at understanding and tolerance. My mother gave her life to give you an heir, and you have the nerve to slander her memory! I _hate you!_ " Scorpius stormed out of the grand room, leaving the others staring after him.

"Well! I have _never!_ I knew I should have insisted that you send Scorpius to Durmstrang, just as I wished I'd sent you all those years ago. Mark my words, Draco. No good can come of this. If you don't get control of Scorpius, before you know it, he'll be brought up before the Wizengamot—"

"Well, it's a bit too late for that, Father. He'll be going before the Juvenile Affairs panel first thing Monday morning." Draco muttered, not meeting his father's eyes.

"I beg your pardon!" Lucius stared at Draco in disbelief.

"Whatever for?" Narcissa demanded in a shocked voice.

"Larceny, violation of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, and violation of the International Statute of Secrecy." Draco gave Lucius a cold stare. "So, Father, you may likely get your wish—as Scorpius may very well be excluded from Hogwarts." He stood. "I've lost my appetite. Stay, and dine if you wish." Lucius and Narcissa stared in apoplectic astonishment as Draco swept from the room.


	3. Stuck in the Middle With You

"Dammit!" Albus swore, as he gazed at the large ink stain spreading across the parchment and consuming the essay he'd been working on for the last hour. He'd startled, upending his inkpot when his brother apparated into his room with a pop. "Look what you made me do, you stupid git!"

"Relax, brother!" James ruffled Albus' hair and pointed his wand to siphon the spilled ink, restoring the essay. "Can't believe you haven't completed your homework. We're meant to return to school in two weeks."

"What do you want, James?" Albus carefully stoppered his ink and turned away from his desk, scooping up his ferret Gonçalo, whom he'd named after his favorite quidditch player, Gonçalo Flores, the starting chaser for the Brazilian international Quidditch team. James stretched out on Albus' bed.

"Heard your boyfriend got nicked for pinching goods at Angel Central."

"He's not my boyfriend. Would you _stop_ saying that? And he wasn't arrested. I can't believe Dad told you! Merlin!"

"He didn't. I heard him on a floo call in his study with Professor McGonagall. Malfoy might even be expelled from Hogwarts. Guess you'll have to start being nicer to Sofia Zabini. It's always best to have the wickedest witches in the house among your circle of friends. They're the ones who _really_ protect the quasi-squibs like you."

"Piss off, James. You're such an arsehole, you know that?"

"An arsehole who will soon be Head Boy." James batted his eyelids at his brother. He buffed the badge that he'd pinned to her shirt.

"So you keep reminding _everyone._ " Albus let out a long-suffering sigh and slumped in his chair, closing his eyes. "Fuck me!"

"Um— _eew!_ Oh—wait—are you having it on with Malfoy?"

"Fuck you! Get out, James!"

"Have you at least had a snog?" James continued to tease. "I can't believe you can't see he's gaga for you." Albus leapt to his feet and pointed his wand at him, and James raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay! I was just teasing. Put that thing away! Everyone knows even your most basic spells are life-threatening!" he chortled.

"I said _get out!_ " Albus yelled. James disapparated with another pop.

"It's time for dinner, kids." Harry's voice echoed up the stairs with the use of a Sonorous charm. Albus glared at his brother as they emerged from their rooms, out onto the landing at the same time and made their way downstairs.

"Where's Mum?" asked Lily, when they entered the dining room to find Harry sitting alone at the head of the table.

"Working late again, I suppose," he replied with a helpless shrug.

The three Potter children shared a glance. Over the last several months they'd begun to see less and less of their mother, with the same frequent excuse that she was working late, though her articles were appearing with little more frequency than they usually did. Still, none of them wanted to share their suspicions with their father.

The massive dining table had been shrunk to a size manageable enough to accommodate a cozy family meal for five, rendering the empty chair a glaring reminder that their family unit was incomplete, and the children took their seats. Harry served up chicken fricassee and the meal quietly began. After a few subdued minutes, Harry dabbed his lips with his napkin and spoke up.

"Ah, James! I see you've taken to pinning your badge to all of your clothes. Your Uncle Percy even wore his pinned to his pyjamas the year he was made Head. Uncle Ron did the same thing with his Prefect's badge—though he'd deny it up and down if you asked him. Merlin! I'm proud of you, son! Just like granddad!" Harry beamed. Albus rolled his eyes and slouched in his chair. "Perhaps now, you and Alf Jordan might consider slowing things up a bit with the pranks." He raised a brow at James.

Lee Jordan had been Fred and George Weasley's best school chum, and when his son, whom he'd named Alfred in reverence to his late friend, first met James on the train to Hogwarts, they'd immediately hit it off. Over the intervening six years, Harry and Ginny had taken more than their fair share of floo calls from Headmistress McGonagall, regarding the pair's antics. His son feigned a shocked expression.

"What would Uncle Fred say?" James gave his father a wink and a conspiratorial grin.

" _James,_ promise you'll set a better example for your siblings."

"Fine, Dad. I _solemnly_ swear that I am up to no good!" he snickered. Harry gave him a suspicious look.

"What did you—?" he began, but Lily interrupted him.

"Aunt Hermione's already taken Hugo and Rose for school supplies. Mum's cancelled our shopping trip _twice._ " Harry narrowed his eyes, and looked around the table with confusion. Albus studiously focused his eyes on his plate, and James bit his lip.

"Wait—I thought you'd been shopping already. Mum said—"

"No, Dad. We thought you'd simply left it to the last minute because you were trying to arrange your schedules so that you could both go, like you always do." Harry schooled his expression.

"Right—right. I suppose it's been awfully hectic here lately." He took a sip of water and pasted on a smile. "Right then, I'll leave the office early, and we can go tomorrow. How's that sound?" he suggested.

"I've a Junior League match tomorrow, remember?" James reminded him. "It's the London Metro Seventeen and Under—Islington Kappas versus Hounslow Thestrals.

"Oh, that's right! How could I have forgotten, James? It's written in my diary in red ink." Harry slapped his forehead. "We've only been working with Magical Games and Sports for three weeks to secure a location in the Royal Epping Forest, just beyond Queen Elizabeth's Hunting Lodge. Talk about a logistical nightmare! It'd be so much easier, if there was at least _one_ magical member of the Royal Family—at least a _ranking_ member." He winked. "You kids are going to love the arena! It's no problem. I'll just call in and we'll take the entire day! We'll go to Diagon Alley after breakfast, and then we'll have lunch in the city before the match."

Albus grimaced as the conversation immediately turned to quidditch, and the strategies that Islington's team captains and trainers had come up with. Eventually talk moved from Junior Quidditch to Gryffindor's chances in the upcoming season, and predictably to professional sport. Even Lily chimed in. How could she not? Their mother had been a top professional player before they were born, and was now a correspondent for _The Daily Prophet._ They'd attended every World Cup in his memory, and his sister had, true to form, also made the Gryffindor house team as reserve chaser the previous year. Everyone was certain she would make the starting squad this term.

Albus didn't dislike Quidditch; he just didn't consider himself a dyed-in-the-wool fan like the rest of the family—well, except his Aunt Hermione. Although, he had to admit, even her enthusiasm for the game had seemed to increase since she was elected Minister of Magic. Albus wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he actually preferred muggle athletics. His favorite times were visits to the home of his parents' friend, Dean Thomas, who was a proud supporter of West Ham Football. As Dean's wife was muggleborn, the family had chosen to live near their muggle relatives in the Kidbrooke district of Southeast London, and Albus frequently joined Eliza Thomas and her father on the parlor sofa whenever there was football on the telly. He'd accompanied his father to watch Eliza play for a muggle girls' football club on occasion. Albus secretly wanted to play football, but he'd only confided this to Eliza. The Ravenclaw girl was one of his few classmates who was not unkind to him and Scorpius, though he wouldn't necessarily consider them close friends. Albus hadn't even told Scorpius of his desire, fearing that his best friend might laugh at him.

They had dessert, and Harry saw his children off to bed after they finished more than one helping of sticky toffee pudding, before he went to the fireplace in his study. He tossed a handful of floo powder into the hearth and requested the sports desk at _The Daily Prophet_ offices.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, Mrs. Potter has gone for the day," said Ginny's secretary.

"Oh, erm, right. Thank you—erm—you don't know about what time she happened to have left, do you?" he asked.

"Ermmm…half six, I believe?" the young woman replied. "She brought me her copy well ahead of deadline. Is everything alright?"

"No—I mean—yes! Yes, everything is fine. I must have gotten our schedules mixed up. Thank you, Sally." Harry broke the connection, but continued to kneel in the hearth for a few minutes.

He hadn't been able to ignore the looks on his children's faces when they realized that their mother was missing dinner again, nor the disillusionment in Lily's tone when she'd mentioned the multiple cancellations of their shopping trip. Harry let out a shocked sigh. He realized that Ginny was even late to his birthday dinner. She'd arrived at the restaurant over an hour past their reservation time, flushed and apologetic, going on about Alasdair Maddock, the disgraced former Chaser for the Montrose Magpies entering The Open Championship, a muggle golf tournament. Then on her own birthday, she'd kept the entire family waiting at the Burrow for nearly half an hour before putting in an appearance.

Had he missed the signs? Was he being over dramatic? Why hadn't he realized that he and his wife were growing increasingly further apart? Harry heaved another sigh and dismissed his thoughts as the silly tendency he'd yet to overcome since his youth, of finding suspicious behavior in the most ordinary of circumstances. Ginny was a journalist after all. To stay on top of her game, she had to stay abreast of the constant surprises and breaking news in the sports world, lest she find her position usurped by the likes of Rita Skeeter. Since she'd left the Quidditch game behind her, Ginny had made it her personal mission to rebut the salacious gossip and rumor upon which Skeeter thrived. It meant countless hours following up on Rita's reports and seeking witnesses who were willing to discredit the other reporter's informants.

"That's all it is," Harry reassured himself as he made his way downstairs to their bedroom suite, where he showered and settled into bed.

* * *

Albus lay on his stomach re-reading the same page of his transfiguration textbook for the third time.

"The Colour Change Charm ( _Colovaria_ ) is a charm that causes an object or animal to change its colour. A witch or wizard can use it to change the colour of walls and banners, for instance. To cast the charm, simply point your wand at the object or animal you wish to transform, and speak the incantation clearly."

Albus sat up, tucking his legs under cross-wise, and pointed his wand at a throw pillow on his bed. He took a breath and concentrated.

" _Colovaria!_ " he said, clearly. The pillow burst into flame. "Shit! _Aqua Eructo!"_ A torrent of water flowed from the tip of his wand, soaking his bed, and pouring onto the floor. "Fuck! Fuck! _Finite!_ " Albus cried. He looked about at the mess of clothing and papers that floated in the shallow pool of water on his bedroom floor and felt like crying as he watched the ink on his transfiguration essay blur and then disappear from the wet page.

"Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!" he swore, tearfully as he struggled to remember the drying charm that his grandfather had used when he'd accidentally broken the sink faucet and flooded the kitchen at the Burrow. He squeezed his eyes shut and swirled his wand.

" _Desicco!_ " Albus held his breath, opening one eye as he heard a gurgling sound like water down a drain. Suddenly, the dampness in his trousers and socks dissipated.

He opened both eyes and looked around. The room was completely dry, including his bedding. However, the throw pillow was badly singed, and his Transfiguration essay was a distant memory. Albus threw himself down across his bed, and fresh tears flowed from his eyes. No one else in his family was as abysmal with a wand as he was. He couldn't seem to remember the simplest incantations, and when he did remember a spell, they were always too weak or too strong. He wished he didn't have to return to Hogwarts at all.

A tiny bell beside the hearth tinkled, and Albus lifted his head. The bell tinkled again. It was late, and the Potter children weren't allowed to receive personal floo calls after eight o'clock. Besides, no one ever flooed Albus except—he leapt from his bed, swiping at the tears on his face, and tossed in a pinch of powder. A moment later, Scorpius' head appeared in the flames.

"Can you talk?" Scorpius asked.

"Yeah. Hang on a minute." Albus took a breath and concentrated. " _Muffliato!_ Merlin! I hope that works. I can talk now," he said, his voice low.

"You sound upset," said Scorpius, a look of concern etching his fine features.

"Fucking flooded my room," Albus muttered.

"How'd you manage that?"

"It's embarrassing," he replied. "I was trying to practice the colour change charm, and somehow, I managed to set my throw pillow on fire. Then, instead of _Aguamenti,_ I panicked, and used _Aqua Eructo._ Now I have to re-write my Transfiguration essay for the _third_ time! I'm about as shit a wizard as a squib!" he groused.

"No you aren't, Albus. You just let yourself get overwhelmed, and you try too hard!" Scorpius tried to reassure him. "I'll owl you my notes, and you should be able to copy them into a new essay."

"Thanks, mate. You don't have to do that. I know you have a lot on your plate right now. I wish I could come to the hearing, but Dad says only parents are allowed to attend."

"Yeah, I'm kind of petrified, actually. I could be excluded from Hogwarts. Grandfather wants Father to enroll me at Durmstrang. He even wrote to Madame Březina."

"What? No!" Albus exclaimed.

"Well, Father hasn't said much about it. Honestly, we've barely spoken since last night."

"What happened last night?"

"The grandparents came for dinner, and I arrived in muggle clothing!" Scorpius laughed.

"No way! And the old man didn't keel over right then from the shock of it? Is that what you've done with your hair? It looks like a skater cut."

"Yeah. I saw it on a poster in one of the stores, and I liked it, so I transfigured my hair just like it."

"Wish I could do that. I'd probably wind up bald, or with feathers."

" _Albus!_ "

"Okay, no more self-deprecation. So what did the old man say?"

"He actually _demanded_ that I change into proper wizarding attire!"

"But you didn't."

"Of _course not!_ I told him he wasn't my father. Grandmother accused me of being impudent and insisted that I apologize. When I refused, The Old Man insulted Mother, saying that she abandoned proper pureblood breeding in my upbringing, spoiling me instead, and that Father had completely abdicated his parental responsibility by allowing me to consort with the likes of you and your negative influence."

"He said that about your _mother?_ " Albus gasped incredulously. "What did your dad say?"

"Not a single word. I think he's still afraid of the old man. So, I told him off myself. What right does he have to continue to cling to his outdated ideals after what he'd done? If it weren't for your dad, Father—all of them would be in prison, and he'd never had the opportunity to marry Mother. I might not even be alive. Merlin! I hate him!" Scorpius stormed. He let out a sigh. "I feel kind of guilty for yelling at Father though. He is doing the best that he can under the circumstances. He misses her. They weren't very affectionate, that I can remember, but they seemed like they were best friends. They were always talking, and debating over things in the paper. She said that her body was weak, but talking with him kept her mind sharp." Scorpius' gaze grew distant as he continued. "Mother said that the most courageous thing she'd ever seen Father do was stand up to The Grandparents when they expressed their disapproval of their betrothal. I don't understand why he won't stand up to them now."

"Well, maybe he thinks he's teaching you to show respect for your elders or something. I know you say that your father is more tolerant of other groups than we've heard him to be in his youth, but people still cling to their traditions in some way or another. Even my grandparents are kind of funny about squibs, and they still don't quite understand muggles, despite Granddad's utter fascination with them." Albus chuckled. They were quiet for a moment. "Scorp—why were you stealing? You've got plenty of money to buy what you want. Gringotts would have converted your gold to muggle notes even."

"I don't know, Albus. I didn't even think about it, I just—it was a rush. It felt awesome doing something forbidden—testing the limits. Not being proper aristocratic pureblood, Scorpius Malfoy, for a change was kind of a thrill! I wasn't trying to get anyone to like me. Everybody treats me different anyway. Why not be the outcast they already think I am? After all, didn't The Dark Lord start out with petty theft?"

"You're _not_ Dark, Scorpius! You're not like him, and you know as well as I do, that the rumours aren't true!"

"I _know!_ I just—fuck, Albus! I want my _mum_ back. I want to be _normal!_ I want _friends_ —"

"I'm your friend!"

"Of course you are—but—Albus what if I'm expelled? We won't be together! I'll be stuck at the Manor all alone!"

"I couldn't _bear_ to go back to Hogwarts without you there!" Albus exclaimed. "Do you think your father would really send you to Durmstrang?"

"I don't know." Scorpius sighed. "I hope not. Father said Grandmother had steadfastly refused when Grandfather suggested sending him there instead of Hogwarts when he was young. Mother _certainly_ would not have approved, and I can't see Father ever disappointing her, even now."

"I wish our parents would allow us to have a sleepover."

"As do I. This entire summer has been ridiculously dull. There's only so much broom and horseback riding one can occupy his time with. I've read nearly all of the books in the library—well okay—at least half of them, and completed all of my homework, and studied enough alchemical manuscripts to qualify as an expert on the subject! What else is there to do?"

"Nick designer apparel and other goods from muggle merchants, apparently." Albus gave him a wink.

"Prat!"

"Git!" Albus heard the clock chime downstairs. He frowned. "I suppose I should turn in. We're school shopping tomorrow, and then James' Junior Quidditch team has their final tomorrow evening."

"Is that the London Seventeen and Under?" Scorpius asked.

"That's the one. It's to be held in Epping Forest."

"Oh, cool."

"Don't let The Grandparents hear you using muggle slang," Albus teased.

"Don't let your mum catch you receiving floo calls from delinquent wizards after hours." Scorpius grinned.

"Good luck Scorpius. Everything will turn out fine, mate."

"Thanks, mate. I hope so. Love you."

"Wait—what?" Albus was unsure of what his friend had just said, but before he could inquire, Scorpius vanished in a swirl of green flames.

* * *

Harry felt the bed shift as Ginny slipped under the covers beside him and snuggled in close.

"Night Ginny," he mumbled.

"Oh, I didn't mean to wake you," she replied. "I'm sorry. Gwenog showed up just as I was leaving for the day. She needed my advice on how to handle Rita Skeeter's reporting that the Harpies were offering payouts to other clubs not to scout female players at Hogwarts. We went to the Leaky for a drink, and then we were both hungry, that became dinner, and of course, you know how it goes. First talk about the problem, then about the upcoming season, trade prospects, which Hogwarts players are likely looking to go pro…I totally lost track of time."

"Yeah. You might have sent a patronus or something. The kids were a bit hacked off. They said you cancelled their school shopping trip twice."

"I know, I know! Gee! It's totally slipped my mind. Why don't we go this weekend? Then we can visit Mum and Dad too."

"I'm taking them tomorrow. I promised, at dinner."

"But then you'll have to take a day off work," Ginny protested. "Why not wait until Saturday, when we can all go?"

"I'd already intended to call it an early day for James' Quidditch match, so it's no big deal. Perks of being boss."

"Shit! The final!"

"Oh, Ginny! Don't tell me you've forgotten that too!" Harry sat up and turned on the light.

"No! Of course not. I'm going to be there anyway. I volunteered to cover the match."

"Alright then. Good night." Harry extinguished the lights and lay back down.

"Wha—Harry!" Ginny turned the lights back on.

"What's the matter?" He looked over his shoulder.

"Well, I—" she wrapped her arms around him, snuggling in close once more, and kissed the back of his neck. "I thought you might want to—you know."

"It's late, love." Harry sneezed. He turned out the lights. He sneezed again. "Wow. Gwenog must have been wearing _some_ perfume," he declared.

"Oh, uh, yeah—it—it was rather loud, I guess." Ginny sniffed. "I didn't realize—"

"It's decidedly masculine, yeah?"

"Is it?" Ginny's voice sounded a bit tremulous to Harry. He edged away from her and sneezed again.

"If you don't mind, love, maybe you'll want to wash up a bit?"

"Oh, erm…well, o-okay then. I'll just—" Ginny eased out of bed once more and made her way to the en suite lavatory. As the beam from the bathroom light fell across the bed, she saw her husband adjust the comforter, turning on his side to go back to sleep.

He didn't really seem to care that she'd been late, or even why. She'd felt guilty about the distance that had seemed to develop between them, but Harry hadn't even appeared to notice. She heaved a sigh and closed the bathroom door.


	4. The Way You Make Me Feel

"Dad, is it alright if I go to Uncle George's shop?" Albus asked. "Please? I'll wait for you there."

They'd been in Quality Quidditch Supplies for twenty minutes, and it didn't appear that they would be leaving any time soon. Though Harry had chosen to forego a professional Quidditch career, his name still endorsed an elite line of racing brooms from Ellerby and Spudmore, as well as Quidditch armor for youth league and interscholastic fliers. The family was immediately thronged when they entered by bright-eyed young witches and wizards clamoring for Harry's autograph. They hadn't even had the opportunity to select the new equipment Harry had promised Lily and James, and Albus couldn't help but notice the sales manager quietly and quickly arranging his newest merchandise to woo his father.

"Alright, son. Tell your uncles we'll be down in a bit." Harry nodded, barely looking away from the twin boys with whom he posed. Albus rolled his eyes and left the shop, pushing open the door perhaps a little too forcefully as he left.

As usual, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was overwhelmed with activity and crowded with customers of all ages. Albus greeted several of his schoolmates, stocking up on the products that Hogwarts had unsuccessfully attempted to ban year after year. Most of his peers spoke only to inquire as to the whereabouts of his siblings.

"Alright then, Al?" Ron descended from the upper level of the shop, his arms laden with Skivving Snack boxes.

"Hi, Uncle Ron. Dad's at Quality Quidditch with Lily and James. They'll be over whenever he can tear himself from his adoring fans." Albus took several boxes and followed his uncle to a large display in the center of the showroom floor, where they arranged them in a pyramid.

"Head's up!" Albus turned, ducking just in time to avoid an Aviatomobile, a miniature Flying Ford Anglia, which zipped through the air. "Hiya, Al!" George Weasley grinned as he approached. "Nice reflexes."

"Thanks. Wish they were nice enough for Quidditch," Albus groused.

"I thought you didn't like Quidditch," George replied.

"I _like_ Quidditch. I'm just rubbish at it. Are these new?" he asked, picking up a package labeled _Demon Box_ , with a warning not to feed the creatures inside after midnight, lest they multiply and begin attacking people. "Professor McGonagall will have you before the Wizengamot if any of these wind up at Hogwarts."

"Ah! They're harmless! Say, how about lending a hand and bring up some more Self Writing Quills from the stores downstairs, yeah?"

"Sure thing." Albus began to make his way through the throng of shoppers in the crowded store.

"And help yourself to whatever you like!" George called after him.

Just as Albus pushed open the door at the top of the stairs that led to the cellar, he felt a hand on his arm.

"How effective do you think this product would be to _really_ get up someone's nose?" Albus turned to see the blond giving him a wicked grin. He held box labeled Portable Swamp. "I mean—suppose something like this were to wind up in the middle of the parlour at one's lodge…"

"Well, the owner might be more than a bit hacked off to suddenly find their sitting room floating in a pool of brackish water," Albus snickered. He nodded towards the stairs, and Scorpius followed him. "I thought you were grounded," he said as he slowly searched the shelves for the quills his uncle had asked for.

"I am. Father had a meeting with his accountants at Gringotts. I'm supposed to be at Twilfitt and Tattings selecting robes for my hearing." Scorpius frowned. Albus stopped browsing the shelves and turned to Scorpius, placing a hand on his arm.

"Everything's going to be okay, mate. I just know it will." He gave him what he thought was a reassuring smile.

"I've made a right balls-up of everything, Albus!" Scorpius declared in a tremulous voice, his eyes brimming with tears. "As if Father wasn't already harassed enough with the Old Man's constant nagging and unwanted interference, I've gone and added yet another stain upon our tarnished reputation! No Malfoy has ever been excluded from school! I could have my wand snapped!"

"I'm sure that won't happen. You have to believe!" Albus insisted. He pulled Scorpius into a hug, and his best friend clung to him desperately, and he felt warm tears soaking through his shirt. He gently stroked the stubbly blond hair on the back of Scorpius' head, causing him to shiver. Albus felt goosebumps prickle his skin.

"Erm…" Scorpius lifted his head, but maintained their embrace, looking deeply into Albus' eyes. "There's something I wanted to…erm…I don't really know how to say."

"It's okay, you don't have to say anything," Albus replied.

"No, I—I need to tell you something." Scorpius swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, and gave a sniffle.

"Oh?"

"Yes, I—" he began. They heard the door open above them, and immediately broke their embrace. Scorpius shrank into the shadows.

"Get a wriggle on, Al!" George called. "The quills are on the fourth aisle, fifth shelf!"

"Right! Be there in a second!" he called back.

He turned to find that Scorpius had disappeared.

"Scorpius?" he whispered.

"I'm here!" Albus noticed a ripple in the air, just as a disillusioned hand touched his arm, and he started. "Sorry."

"I've gotta get back into the shop." Albus reached up and pulled one of the Portable Swamps from a nearby shelf. Here."

"Gee, thanks. Erm. I wondered if—"

"Al!" George called again.

"Coming!" Albus found the shelf with the quills and Scorpius helped him fill his arms with a stack of boxes, quietly following him back into the shop.

Harry and Lily were waiting for him when they emerged from the cellar. Teddy had met them at the other shop to accompany James to the arena for his pregame. Albus looked around, hoping to see Scorpius reappear, but he did not locate the fair-haired wizard among the crowd that filled the shop. As he helped George arrange the boxes of magical quills, he wondered what was so important that Scorpius had to tell him, and why did he suddenly feel that something new had passed between them.

Albus and Lily selected a few of their uncle's signature products for themselves. Albus stocked up on Self-writing and Spell-checking quills, as well as extendable ears before accompanying his sister and father to a muggle restaurant in the city for lunch, and then stepping into an alleyway and apparating side-along with Harry to the arena.

* * *

The London Metro Seventeen and Under Quidditch League championship arena resembled a dense thicket of trees within the Royal Epping forest. A row of gnarled trees created an arched canopy over a mossy trail that led into the top of the arena. Hundreds of spectators made their way to seats above the pitch. The supporters of Islington all wore aquamarine and chartreuse while the Hounslow fans wore claret and silver colours. Vendors sold snacks and souvenirs. Lily begged for an Islington Kappa mascot, and Harry bought popcorn and butterbeer for everyone before they began making their way to the stands. The spectator seating was accommodated in treehouse-styled boxes elevated among the branches of the trees surrounding the pitch. As they mounted the stairs, Albus spotted a familiar face in the crowd.

"Ah, Dad. I'll meet you guys up there, alright?"

"Albus?"

"I—I just need to go to the loo." He gave his father a smile and a shrug.

"Alright. Don't be gone too long. The match is going to start any minute."

"Okay."

Albus took his time heading back down until he was sure that Lily and Harry were no longer paying him attention. When they disappeared two levels above, he dashed down the spiraling stair as quickly as he could move against the tide of spectators going up, until he reached the ground, and scanned the area. He saw Scorpius standing just off the path among the trees a few yards away, and looking over his shoulder once more to be certain that he was unobserved, he hurried as quickly as he could move, while still appearing to look casual.

Scorpius grabbed Albus' hand the moment that he approached, and the pair stepped into the woods. Albus looked over his shoulder occasionally.

"What's the matter?"

"An event as large as this, I'm _sure_ that Rita Skeeter is about," Albus replied. "You haven't seen any shiny beetles anywhere have you?"

"No." Scorpius shrugged in confusion. Albus carefully examined the surrounding trees, and Scorpius laid a hand on his arm. "There's a simple solution, you know."

"Mm-hmm." Albus continued to scan their surroundings. Scorpius raised his wand.

" _Repello Inimicum! Cave Inimicum!"_ A bluish white light shone briefly, and their surroundings appeared to become hazy.

"How do you know these spells so well?" Albus asked, looking around in wonder.

"Among the perks and downsides to being a Malfoy is that Father has spent every holiday, since I received my wand, teaching me advanced magic, just as the Old Man taught him. I _could_ teach you, you know."

"I'd probably only manage to blow us both up." Albus scoffed.

" _Albus!_ All you need is a bit of confidence. You worry too much about making a mistake, so you do. I'll bet you're more powerful than you even know," Scorpius argued. He removed his cloak and spread it on the ground at the base of a large tree, before sitting down and gesturing for Albus to join him. Albus sat, and their shoulders touched, sending a shiver racing up his spine. "You alright?"

"Y-yeah. I'm fine." Albus smiled.

"Thanks for—about what you—" They both spoke at once. "Sorry—no you go ahead—it's okay." They chuckled nervously. "You first," said Albus.

"Oh… well, erm—th-thanks for you know—earlier." Scorpius pulled his knees up to his chin and raked his fingers through his hair.

"Oh, that—I mean—it's nothing. I—I care about you." Albus shrugged, biting his lip.

"Do you really?" Scorpius turned to him then, his eyes seeming to search Albus', who nervously looked away, suppressing another shiver. He studied the mossy earth beneath them.

"Well, I—of course I do. I mean—you don't treat me like everyone else. My mum barely seems to have time for any of us anymore. Dad always acts like I'm an embarrassment that he has to apologize for. James has appointed himself my personal tormentor, and I don't even know what Lily thinks of me. I guess I'm just her pitiful fuckwit of a big brother—an object of pity like Quasimodo. You…you think about my feelings, and my ideas—even the dumb ones like playing football."

"Football? Is that the muggle game where they kick a quaffle about?" Scorpius asked. Albus snorted.

"Something like that," he smiled. "I'm just saying why wouldn't I care about you? You care about _me,_ right?"

"I _really_ do, Albus." Scorpius' voice came out husky, barely above a whisper, and he touched Albus' hand. Albus looked up at him curiously, drawing his hand away.

"I—you—what?"

"I—nothing—forget it. I was mistaken." Scorpius stood, turning away to hide his glowing cheeks.

"You _did_ say you loved me," Albus whispered. He stood, summoning the other's cloak to his hand. "Didn't you? Last night."

"I was emotional," Scorpius denied. "I didn't know what I was saying. I—I don't know what I'm saying. I just—we should probably go now. I snuck out, and Father will be furious. Your dad is probably looking for you too."

"Scorpius—" Albus began. Scorpius took his cloak from him, their fingers lingering a moment when they touched.

"Just—if I am expelled—don't forget me, Albus." He pulled on his cloak with a flourish, and tugged at a chain about his neck.

"Scorpius—" Before Albus could say more, Scorpius curled his fingers around the ring hanging from the necklace and disappeared.

* * *

Scorpius landed in his bedroom upon his return, and flung off his cloak in frustration before throwing himself across his bed and beating his fist into the downy comforter.

"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" he berated himself.

How could he have thought that Albus would feel the same about him? Giving himself the opportunity to actually think about it, they'd never had a conversation about who they fancied. Although, he suddenly realized that Albus' constant insinuations that he was infatuated with his cousin Rose should have been indication enough that his best mate hadn't the slightest idea he might have been otherwise inclined.

Now, he'd likely irreparably damaged the only meaningful relationship he'd had with anyone besides his father. With the possibility of being denied the opportunity to return to school, the likelihood of forging any alliance with other wizards or witches of his age seemed a distant hope. He may as well be sent to Azkaban.

"Scorpius!" There was a perfunctory rap upon his door, and Draco stepped into his son's bedchamber. He spied the boy's abandoned cloak on the floor. "You've been out?"

"I took a walk in the southern woods," Scorpius lied, sitting up. He turned away from his father, and swiped a hand over his face.

"Have you been weeping?" Draco sat on the edge of the large canopy bed, draped in heavy blue velvet.

"No…yes. I apologize for exhibiting weakness, Father."

"Scorpius…look at me, son." Scorpius turned to Draco, who sighed. "I won't deny that I have been displeased and disappointed with your behavior."

"Yes, sir." Scorpius looked down.

"I also confess that I have failed in my duty to you, as a father, of late. For that I apologize. My son, I made _so many_ dreadful mistakes when I was your age. I have regrets that I have held secret in my heart, keeping them even from your mother. I don't want you to become that sort of person. You have the potential to be a great wizard, and you mustn't squander it on reckless behavior."

"Please don't send me to Durmstrang, Father! I couldn't _bear it!_ " Scorpius pleaded with his father, tears filling his eyes.

"I would _never,_ my son! Whatever happens, we will face it together—you and I—I promise you." Draco blinked back his own tears as he drew his son into his arms, holding him tightly in embrace.

* * *

"…and it has certainly been a thrilling match thus far!" exclaimed the commentator. "Islington trails Hounslow by a goal after two hours of play, and Niamh Walsh intercepts the quaffle from the Thestrals' Thomas Haysbert as she rolls left to avoid a bludger! The Kappas execute a power play, driving the quaffle straight down the middle!"

Harry trained his omnioculars on the action above them as he watched the teens battle for supremacy and youth quidditch bragging rights.

"That's it, James!" he shouted as young Walsh passed the quaffle to his son, who raced across the pitch and hurled it through the middle scoring hoop, tying the score. The Potter family cheered loudly with the Islington supporters.

"…and young Potter shows himself true to family legacy, tying the score at 200 all. The quaffle is back in play…"

Harry turned to the press box, adjusting his lenses to bring the red-haired witch on the front row into focus. He smiled, watching Ginny as she cheered for her son and his team, but his pleasure faded as he observed the wizard seated behind her. Harry recognized Chudley Cannons Keeper, Gordon Horton, as he leaned forward, placing his hands on her shoulders as he cheered with excitement. He kissed Ginny just below her jaw, and Harry struggled to maintain his composure, watching his wife reach up and lace her delicate fingers with the other wizard's large dark ones.

"…and Potter scores again with the Finbourgh Flick!"

For Harry, the rest of the match went by in a blur, and he numbly followed his children out of the arena, oblivious to their raucous behavior as they celebrated Islington's Championship win. He smiled blandly as the teens excitedly recounted the match with James and Teddy, who had joined them in Horizont Alley for a celebration dinner at the Quiet Banshee.

Ginny had not yet arrived when they finally returned home, and Harry trudged up to his study, where he went to the sideboard and helped himself to a substantial serving of whiskey. He settled into his favorite chair beside the fireplace and proceeded to drink himself into a stupor.

* * *

Harry studied the young man standing in the dock before the panel, as he took his seat at the witness stand. He recalled his own experience before the Wizengamot, after fighting off the dementors who'd attacked him and his cousin Dudley, when he was fifteen years old. Of course, in his case, the entire assembly had been empaneled for a full-scale trial—a move that Dumbledore had stridently protested. Scorpius faced only a panel of six delegates, tasked with overseeing matters concerning mages under the age of seventeen, in a small nondescript courtroom that could have very easily been inside the Old Bailey. Nonetheless, Harry took note of the young man's apprehension.

Scorpius wore elegant robes in dark grey worsted wool, with silk damask accents at the lapels and turned cuffs. His cravat was green silk, and his boots boasted brogue detail and a high shine. The boy's pale hair had been slicked back from his face, drawing attention to his angular features, reminding Harry of another frightened Malfoy from a time long gone, but not forgotten.

Harry tore his attention away from his son's best friend, to answer questions regarding the charges that had been brought against Scorpius. He confirmed the initial investigator's account of what he'd observed in the security video, of Scorpius placing several items into a bag, believed to have an undetectable extension charm, and his use of what appeared to be a portkey in order to affect escape from security personnel at the shopping center.

"When I arrived at Malfoy Manor, Mr. Malfoy, the younger, did admit to using an unauthorized portkey to escape apprehension, thereby violating the Statute of Secrecy."

"And were you able to recover the stolen items?" asked the presiding Polemarch.

"I was. All items were catalogued in my report. There were a number of shirts and trousers bearing sales tags from retailers in the shopping center."

"Records indicate at least three other instances in which Mr. Malfoy has been observed engaging in larceny at muggle retail shops. He was not detained in these instances. Why is that?"

"In the other occasions, we were called upon to investigate the use of underage magic. However, there was no evidence that Malfoy performed magic in the presence of muggles. There was also some difficulty in obtaining clear CCTV footage documenting the thefts. In one instance, the footage was of poor quality. In another, cameras were found to be non-functional. In the third, the footage had already been erased before our patrol wizards could obtain it. As a result, only a warning could be issued."

"How were you able to identify Malfoy as the culprit?" asked one of the panel members.

"In each of the other instances, while there were no witnesses to the use of magic, those interviewed, to a person described Mr. Malfoy's distinct features. After warnings were issued to Malfoy Manor, packages containing the items in question arrived at the DMLE."

Harry heard an audible sigh behind him, and he saw Scorpius glance across the room before his shoulders slumped and he lowered his eyes. It was clear to him that the boy was extremely disturbed by his father's obvious disappointment.

"That is all the questions that we have at the moment, Mr. Potter. Is there anything that you would like to add?" asked the Polemarch.

"As a matter of fact, I do, M'Lord. I am not personally acquainted with young Malfoy, but my son is, and as such I sincerely believe that the young man's actions are not of a malicious or willful nature. I would conclude that his behavior is symptomatic of other issues with which he is struggling. Mr. Malfoy has had to contend with the unwanted attention associated with his family history, which has made him something of a social outcast among his peers. For the past two years, he has lived alone with his father, following the death of his mother from a prolonged illness. Please understand, however, that Draco Malfoy has provided the best possible parentage, and from my personal observations, young Scorpius is loved and well-cared for. However, adolescence is a difficult time for many. When you add in the specific factors I have mentioned—situations not of the boy's making—it is not difficult to understand how one could be driven to act out his frustrations in such a way. I urge you to take these facts into consideration when making your decision regarding Mr. Malfoy's future."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. We will take a brief adjournment to deliberate, and reconvene in half an hour. Mr. Malfoy, you may step down."

The panel exited through a door behind the dais, and Scorpius rushed to his father's side, nervously biting his fingernails. Harry watched Draco place a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder as they spoke in hushed tones. He was about to approach them, when a ministry elf appeared in front of him.

After completing her education at Hogwarts, Hermione had begun her ministry career in the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She had continued her crusade to improve the quality of life for house elves with minimal success, mostly with reducing physical abuse of the creatures, and developing alternatives to providing elves with clothes as termination. After becoming Minister of Magic, Hermione instituted a program which allowed the Ministry to take dismissed elves into service. There were elves employed in many Ministry departments as messengers and housekeepers, assistants to workers in Magical Maintenance, as well as servers in the Ministry cafeteria. These elves were easily identifiable by their pale blue togas, each with a single distinct tear or stain—the condition to which Hermione had ultimately acquiesced in lieu of uniforms, which the elves considered proper clothing and refused to wear. The young elf handed Harry an envelope bearing the minister's seal.

"Madame Minister has asked Mr. Potter to respond as soon as Mr. Potter is available, please, sir." She squeaked.

"Thank you," he said, sliding his finger under the flap and breaking the seal.

The note was a request for Harry to report to the Minister's office as soon as the hearing was complete. He wondered what Hermione wanted to see him about. Did Hermione know something about Ginny and Horton? Had Ginny realized that he knew? He had not confronted her when she came home, in part because he was three sheets to the wind by the time she finally put in an appearance. She woke him from his slumber, still slouched before the fire in his study, and he had a vague memory of stumbling downstairs with her and falling into bed. The next morning, Harry was too hung over to sort out his emotions, and was soon caught up in the routine that had become weekends with his family, to give the situation much thought.

"Scorpius. Scorpius!" Harry looked up to see Scorpius hurrying from the chamber and Draco chasing after him, calling his name. He shoved the note into his pocket and ran out into the corridor. He heard Draco calling out to Scorpius in the stairwell, and arrived on the next level, just in time to see Draco disappear through the single door at the end of the passage.

"Fucking, Merlin!" Harry swore, as he jogged towards the door that led to the Department of Mysteries, and pulled it open. He found Draco standing in the center of the Entrance Chamber, a stricken look on his face as he called out his son's name.

"Draco," said Harry.

"Scorpius!" Draco yelled.

"Malfoy!" Harry called more firmly. Draco spun around.

"Potter! He's gone! I thought he went that way, but I don't know where he went! The doors kept spinning!" he pointed.

"It's alright. I'll find him. You just go back and wait in the courtroom." Harry stood, holding the door open, and gesturing for him to return to the corridor.

"I—" Draco looked back over his shoulder.

"I'll bring him back. I promise. Come on."

Draco reluctantly returned to the corridor, lingering a moment before Harry saw him head back downstairs. He stepped into the dark stone chamber, letting the door swing shut behind him. After more than twenty years, Harry still hated entering the Department of Mysteries, and recalled the ambush that Lucius had orchestrated, which resulted in Sirius' death at the hands of his demented cousin, Bellatrix LeStrange.

The doors rotated at a dizzying speed, and Harry closed his eyes as he stood at the center of the highly polished marble floor that reminded him of flat water.

"Please show me the exit taken by Scorpius Malfoy," he said firmly. The blue flames of the candles lighting the space flickered a moment before a door opened at his left. Harry hastened to the exit, and found himself in the chamber he dreaded most, and had since managed to avoid until that very moment.

He found Scorpius standing at the center of the large, rectangular, dimly lit room which bore a distinct resemblance to the courtroom where Harry had attended his own trial for underage magic. The young mage stared up at the tall and ancient archway of crumbling stone, hung with a tattered black curtain that fluttered ever so slightly, as if lifted by a breeze, despite the perfect stillness of the cool air inside the space. Harry shook off the shudder and unbidden memory of his godfather's murder on this same spot. He descended to the bottom of the pit, and approached the boy.

"Scorpius," he said quietly.

"Do you hear them?" Scorpius asked.

"I do." He placed a hand on Scorpius shoulder, just as he took a step forward. "No, Scorpius. You don't want to do that."

"What is it? Who is it?" he asked.

"No one…and everyone. The ones who are waiting for us."

"My mother?" Scorpius gazed rapturously at the wispy fabric.

"And mine. My father, and so many others we wish to see…but we can't…not yet."

"Why?" Scorpius moved forward once more, but Harry took his arm. He stepped between the boy and the arch.

"Because, Scorpius, if you go through the veil, you will never be able to return." Harry's statement gave Scorpius pause and he looked into the man's green eyes, realizing at that moment, that they were the same as Albus' and that he could trust him.

"How do you know?"

"Because this is where my godfather, Sirius, died. I saw him fall through right there." He pointed to the spot where Bellatrix's curse struck Sirius.

"You mean this is—" Scorpius's eyes grew large, and he looked from the arch to Harry in disbelief. Harry nodded. "Our History of Magic textbook said that Grandfather…" his voice trailed off and his eyes filled with tears.

"I know I shouldn't have stolen those things, Mr. Potter! I'm really sorry! I don't want to be like Grandfather! I'm not a bad person, but now they're going to take my wand! I've let Father down! I'll never make any friends and I've—I've lost Albus forever!" Scorpius began to sob in earnest.

"What?" Harry looked at the boy in confusion. "Scorpius, Albus wouldn't—"

"I'm so _stupid!_ Everything I do ends up turning to shit! I never should have told him—I—I—he'll probably never speak to me again! I can't—I can't—"

"Scorpius?" Harry wanted to ask what had happened to make Scorpius think that Albus was upset enough with him to end their friendship, but he realized that the young wizard was hyperventilating.

"I can't—I can't—" Scorpius gasped, clutching his chest. "I c-can't—"

"Alright, son. Try to calm down; you're having a panic attack." Harry loosened the boy's cravat and began to steer him up towards the chamber's exit.

"Help! I—I—" Scorpius collapsed, and Harry caught him before he fell to the floor. He apparated them both back to the corridor, and gently placed Scorpius on the ground.

" _Rennervate!_ " A red light emanated from his wand and Scorpius came to with another gasp, his eyes wide as he clutched Harry's sleeve. "It's alright, Scorpius. Just relax. You had a bit of a panic. Everything is okay."

"I'm sorry! I'm—"

"I know. I know. Just take a few deep breaths and pull yourself together." Harry gestured for the Baiulus, who appeared from the stairwell, to wait. "Better?" he asked. Scorpius nodded. "Good. I think they're waiting for us. Let's go."

"Is there a problem, Mr. Potter?" asked the Polemarch when they returned to the courtroom.

"No, M'Lord. Young Mr. Malfoy was feeling a bit unwell and became disoriented. He took a wrong turn on his way back and got a bit lost." The Baiulus escorted Scorpius back to the dock as Harry returned to his seat, giving Draco a reassuring nod, and an expression of relief washed over the worried father's face.

"Very well. Let us proceed then." The Polemarch adjusted his glasses before he continued. "Mr. Malfoy, the panel has determined that you are guilty of one count of larceny, one count of violation of the Decree for Reasonable Restriction of Underage Magic, and one count of violation of the International Statute of Secrecy."

Scorpius' face went pale.

"It is the decision of this panel, that you are hereby expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Harry heard Draco exhale loudly.

"However, the panel has concluded, based upon testimony from Mr. Potter, that you are young enough to appreciate the consequences of your behavior, and we do believe that your remorse is sincere. We are therefore satisfied that, with your father's supervision, you are capable of learning to demonstrate responsibility with a wand. Hence, it is the decision of this court to hand down a suspended sentence in the matter of the remaining counts, and allow you to retain possession of the thirteen-inch wand of Rowan, with a core of basilisk horn. Young man, is there anything that you wish to say at this time?"

Scorpius licked his lips and swallowed hard to rid himself of the dry lump in his throat. He would not be going back to Hogwarts, and he had likely irreparably damaged the relationship with his only friend. His world was crashing down around him, but he knew that he owed it to his family to call upon the breeding for which his family was known, and make an appropriate statement.

"My Lord…ahem…I would like to thank you for your fairness, and for allowing me to retain possession of my wand. My behavior was reckless and inexcusable. I do consider this experience an educational one, and I shall endeavor to make wiser decisions in my future, for the sake of my personal reputation, as well as that of my family."

"Well, spoken, Mr. Malfoy. I do hope that your words are sincere. If the Baiulus will return young Malfoy's wand, we shall now consider these proceedings adjourned."

Scorpius accepted his wand and made a beeline for Draco.

"Keep your head up, Scorpius," he said quietly, but firmly. "Let's go home." Draco gave Harry a perfunctory nod before they exited.

* * *

Albus carefully rolled the stack of parchments and slid them into the black leather document tube, embossed with the Slytherin crest, which Scorpius had given him for Christmas in their second year. He'd managed to re-write a sensible Transfiguration essay, and craft a new star chart over the weekend, while the family visited his grandparents in Ottery St. Catchpole. With the last two homework assignments completed, Albus exhaled a sigh of relief as he buckled the cap onto the cylinder.

He looked at the clock on the mantelpiece above his hearth, and wondered if his father would floo him to let him know the outcome of Scorpius' hearing. The suspense was killing him, and the thought of having to wait until Harry came home from work to find out was more than he imagined he could bear. Albus hoped that Scorpius would floo as soon as he got home, or at the very least send an owl. They hadn't spoken since their conversation in the woods at the Quidditch match before the weekend. He sprawled across his bed and rolled onto his back, staring blankly at the silk canopy above.

 _"_ _I'm just saying why wouldn't I care about you? You care about me, right?"_

 _"_ _I really do, Albus..."_

 _"_ _I—you—what…You did say you loved me," Albus whispered. He stood, summoning the other's cloak to his hand. "Didn't you? Last night."_

 _"_ _I was emotional," Scorpius denied. "I didn't know what I was saying. I don't know what I'm saying. I just—we should probably go now. I snuck out, and Father will be furious. Your dad is probably looking for you too."_

 _"_ _Scorpius—" Albus began. Scorpius took his cloak from him, their fingers lingering a moment when they touched…_

 _"_ _Just—if I am expelled—don't forget me, Albus."_

A shiver snaked up Albus' spine. His best mate had feelings for him—not simply a virtuous, loyal friendship—Scorpius was in love. His confession to Albus had startled him, just as his admission had on the previous night, when he ended their floo call. Scorpius hadn't given Albus an opportunity to process what he'd heard or to develop a response.

Given time to think about it, Albus still wasn't certain how to respond. He cared about Scorpius. He was the first friend he'd made who wasn't a member of his family, and the only cousin his age had abandoned him when he became friends with Scorpius and was sorted into Slytherin house. Scorpius didn't tease him for being clumsy with a wand. He laughed at his silly jokes, and he went out of his way to be nice to Rose, no matter how disdainfully she treated him.

Whenever Albus was with Scorpius, he forgot his troubles. He wasn't Harry Potter's awkward son, James and Lily's Slytherin brother. He wasn't Al, he was Albus. He smiled. He felt comfortable. Albus cared about Scorpius' view of the world and himself. Scorpius didn't attempt to manipulate Albus in order to get what he wanted, and neither of them was afraid to be vulnerable with the other.

Albus thought of the way that Scorpius hugged him when they arrived for his mother's funeral, or that he never gave a thought to holding hands throughout the entire service. In fact, he and Scorpius held hands quite a lot, when he thought about it. Albus liked it when they held hands. He liked it a lot. What did that mean?

* * *

Draco and Scorpius were startled to discover Lucius waiting for them when they stepped out of the fireplace in the grand foyer of Malfoy Manor.

"Ah, there you are! I see that the boy still holds a wand, but should I conclude from your expressions that the panel has taken other punitive action?" He looked down his nose at his grandson. Scorpius said nothing.

"Father, this really isn't a good time to discuss it," said Draco.

"On the contrary, we must seize the moment while it is available. Therefore, I have taken decisive action. Come." Lucius ushered them into the library. "Allow me to present Madame Březina, Headmistress of the Durmstrang Institute."

A petite woman with large eyes and a haughty expression rose from a chair in front of the fireplace, eyeing them with mild derision.

"So! This is the vun who steals." She spoke with a heavy Slovak accent. "Vidím, že má mäkkosť bohatstva. Durmstrang nie je pre čarodejníkov slabého srdca. _(I see he has the softness of wealth. Durmstrang is not for wizards of faint heart.)_ It is of no consequence. Ve are vell equipped to _mold_ even the weakest into vizards of the highest caliber."

Lucius gave a self-satisfied smile, pouring himself a measure of scotch from the decanters on a credenza beside the window.

"Madame, you needn't have made the journey—" Draco began, apologetically.

"Father, you promised!" Scorpius' cried.

"Scorpius, wait!" Draco turned to his son.

"Pull yourself together, man!" Lucius scolded. "Durmstrang is exactly what you need!"

"You _lied_ to me!" Scorpius accused.

"Scorpius, no—"

"I will _never_ forgive you!" Scorpius ran from the room.

"Do you see what you have done?" Draco yelled at Lucius. "If he does anything rash, so help me, Father!" Draco raced from the room, apparating to his son's suite on the third floor. He flung open the doors of the boy's apartment to find it empty. Scorpius was not in his sitting room, or his bedchamber. "Dammit to Hades!"

* * *

Scorpius emerged from a hidden passage into the scullery, and ran out to the garden at the rear of the house, sprinting to the carriage house beyond. He entered the old coachman's quarters and knelt before the fireplace, tossing in a handful of floo powder.


	5. Through the Fire

**_Chapter 5—Through the Fire_**

"Mr. Potter, the Minister is expecting you. Go through." The Minister's secretary, Sorcha O'Ceallaigh, smiled at Harry and pointed with her bright purple quill. "They're in the Kiln."

"The Kiln? Really?" Harry gave her a curious look. The Kiln was a chamber in which the Minister of Magic and delegates could participate in international meetings by use of a restricted Floo connection. This allowed International Leaders to confer on matters without making special travel arrangements. He wondered what Hermione wished to discuss that could be of international importance. "Wait— _They?_ Who else is in the meeting?"

"I'm afraid that I'm not privy to that information, sir," the secretary replied.

Harry frowned slightly, and gave Ms. O'Ceallaigh a nod before proceeding down the corridor past the Minister's chambers to a set of double doors at the end. He knocked, and the doors swung open, admitting Harry to a small brick chamber. A set of double doors made of iron stood behind a curtain of floo powder that fell from the ceiling over a grate in the floor. Harry retrieved a soot-covered cloak from a row of hooks on the wall and wrapped it about himself, raising the hood, before stepping through the flow of powder and pulling open the doors.

The room had walls of pure white ceramic and was dominated by a long table with seating on each side for approximately ten people. The entire space glowed with cool, emerald green flames. There was a chair at the near end for the Minister of Magic, which was currently occupied by Hermione, and flanking her on each side were Babijide Akingbade, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and ICW representative for Great Britain, Kingsley Shacklebolt. At the opposite end of the table appeared to rest inside a massive fireplace, where sat MACUSA President, Cherelle Picquery-Tomlinson.

"Minister, Madame President, Mr. Akingbade, Mr. Shacklebolt." Harry nodded politely to each of the dignitaries present. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"Harry, please sit." Hermione gestured. Harry took a seat beside Kingsley. "We have a bit of a problem, and Mr. Akingbade believes that you might be well-equipped to help get a handle on it before things become out of control."

"I don't follow. What does this have to do with MACUSA?" he asked, glancing towards the fireplace.

"Daniel Barbon has been elected to Congress," said the Akingbade.

"Okay?" Harry looked at her with a bemused expression.

"Perhaps I should clarify," President Tomlinson interjected. "Barbon was elected to the United States _No-Maj_ Congress, as a Senate representative for the state of Texas. His campaign was funded almost entirely by the fundamentalist group known as the New Salem Philanthropic Society."

"Isn't that the puritan witch-hunting group? I thought they disbanded in the twenties after that unfortunate Obscurus debacle with Newt Scamander."

"Well, it was the assumption at the time, given that Mary Lou and Chastity Barebone had been killed in the incident. As you may know, MACUSA monitors, but typically does not interfere in matters of No-Maj government. Like the United Kingdom, as President, I am tasked with making acquaintance with the sitting President of the United States and advising him on matters with regard to matters of magic which may affect the U.S. This has been a practice since the repeal of Rappaport's Law in 1965. Typically, this only happens when a new head is elected. We have been fortunate to have no major incidents since my great-grandmother's term of office in the twenties. I am told, however that MACUSA President Jordan maintained regular contact with the sitting POTUS as we monitored the worrisome goings on there before the final fall of Tom Riddle during the nineties.

With the horrific result of the 2016 No-Maj elections, MACUSA seriously considered overturning the repeal of Rappaport's Law. Ultimately, we decided _not_ to make contact with the president unless matters deemed it absolutely necessary, and I issued an executive order, expanding the Department of No-Maj Misinformation and the Federal Bureau of Covert Vigilance and No-Maj Obliviation. One of their tasks was to monitor any possible anti-magic organizational activity. As you know, America has been minimally aware of the existence of wizardkind since its early days. The witch trials in Salem are well-documented in their history books, and celebrated in Salem to this day. This, combined with the fascination stoked by Hollywood and the No-Maj tourism industry in places like Louisiana and Massachusetts for decades, has made keeping a lid on breaches of the Statute of Secrecy a monumental task for MACUSA.

The intense nationalist rhetoric of the past half-decade has led to a resurgence of activism from some Scourer-founded families. The Office of Magic Relations and Education has just acted to create the Steward Academy at Ilvermorny. It is a year-round school-within-a-school for young No-Maj-born students whose families have disowned them due to their magic. Rather than return home at the semester break and end of term, these young witches and wizards remain at Mount Greylock for a No-Maj style after school program, which includes outings to places of No-Maj interest and entertainment, like the movies, theme parks and museums."

"Merlin's pants!" Harry exclaimed.

"While the necessity of such accommodation is simply terrible, I must applaud your resourcefulness in keeping these young mages connected to the world with which they are familiar while providing a safe place for them until they're old enough to go out on their own," Hermione declared.

"Thank you, Minister. However, I digress. The F.B.C.V.N.O. has been working closely with a small group of No-Majs allied to the American Wizarding community."

"You mean relatives of muggleborns," Harry guessed.

"Exactly. This consortium of Aurors, No-Maj and Wizard historians have compiled a list of extant Scourer-founded families that appear to still be active, and discovered something disturbing. In the aftermath of the Grindelwald-Obscurus calamity, Aurors failed to locate Modesty Barebone, who had run away when Grindelwald came looking for her and discovered that Credence was the obscurus he was seeking.

Research of genealogical and census records from the forties turned up a woman by the name of Modesty, who was married to a John Cotton Barbon of Roscoe, Texas."

"Barbon?" Kingsley raised a brow.

"Yes. Our researchers were initially inclined to dismiss it as coincidence, until they noted the names of the Barbon children…Cotton, Chastity and Credence," Tomlinson pointed out. There was a murmur around the far end of the table. "Exactly. As it turns out, John Barbon's father, Waitstill, was the elder brother of Mary Lou Barebone, according to 1920 census documents. However, the 1930 census showed a Waitstill Barbon with the same identifying information."

"So, you think that this Modesty Barebone was taken in by Mary Lou's brother, and eventually married the son?" Harry made a face.

"It appears to be the case. The legality of Mary Lou Barebone's adoptions has always been questionable. Many believe that she simply persuaded the children's parents to give up the children for whom they could not afford to care."

"While this is all certainly fascinating, Madame President, I'm having difficulty understanding what this has to do with me," said Harry.

"Well, it all boils down to this, Mr. Potter. As I mentioned earlier, recent intense nationalist expression has managed to pervade the No-Maj political conversation in America. There has been an alarming increase in, gynophobic, homophobic, racist, and xenophobic rhetoric and government action aimed at marginalizing people in certain minority groups. Since the early twentieth-century, wiccaphobia has largely gone ignored by No-Majs, except among certain fundamentalist religious sects. This has kept the old Scourer-founded families from gaining much traction in the mainstream. However, they've been able to quietly expand their base among certain conservative members of society, and it appears that the New Salem Philanthropic Society has grown substantially. With Barbon's election, they now have a voice in politics."

"Okay. I'm still having a bit of difficulty following."

"We believe that Barbon intends to introduce a bill to legalize the Scourers. The formation of MACUSA, in 1693, effectively brought an end to the Scourers. Many were put on trial for murder, wizard-trafficking, and torture, and the first American Aurors were deputized. The Barebones were one of the families whose Scourer ancestors evaded justice by integrating into No-Maj society. Though they were no longer actively participating in mercenary and vigilante behavior, these families are directly responsible for stoking the embers of fear and anti-wizard sentiment among No-Majs. They've aligned themselves with other fundamentalist and even hate groups in the United States, and there is evidence that some major incidents in history are Scourer related—like Rosewood and Waco. We have intel regarding individuals and whole wizarding families that have gone missing over the last several months, which have all the hallmarks of Scourer activity."

"I see."

"What we've noticed, is that they seem to be staying away from areas where wizarding communities have been long established—like New York, Sweetwater and Houston, Texas; Louisiana and Florida—and targeting mainstream suburban areas, where Gen X and Millennial mages such as ourselves, who have become more independent of the communities in which we were raised, are now integrating." Now Mr. Akingbade spoke up.

"The ICW is mobilizing a select number of wizards and witches as undercover operatives in the United States. We will set them up with homes and employment, in communities where we have identified possible Scourer activity or active recruitment for NSPS."

"I suggested you," said Kingsley.

"But I'm not American," Harry pointed out. "Wouldn't a muggleborn American Auror be a better choice?"

"It would seem so, Harry, except younger No-Maj Aurors tend to stand out. Few have families. They have a tendency towards rogue behavior themselves, and the last thing we want is exposure from a retaliatory attack."

"Your experiences in the war, along with your muggle upbringing and success rate in bringing the Auror department into cooperation with muggle law enforcement, while maintaining the Statute of Secrecy makes you an excellent candidate," Kingsley explained.

"And my family?" he asked. "You're asking me to pick up and move to another country."

"That can be sorted easily enough," said Hermione.

"We could arrange employment for your wife. She's a journalist, right? I'm sure we could find a place for her as a contributor with the Allied Magical Press. As for your children, we welcome them to Ilvermorny on student exchange if they would like."

"James has been named Head Boy this term. I doubt the children would be happy to leave Hogwarts."

"The children may continue to attend Hogwarts, of course. I'm sure you know that Ron and I are happy to act in loco parentis, should the need arise, and it shouldn't be too difficult for them to join you during holidays."

"Okay, so even if I were to convince Ginny to go along, how do you expect someone with my high profile image to be a successful undercover operative?"

"You may be one of the most famous wizards in the world, but who do you expect to take notice of you in the muggle world?" said Kingsley.

Harry stroked his chin and let out a sigh. This was a huge undertaking that would likely send his family into upheaval.

"With all due respect, Honorable Ladies and Gentlemen, this is a significant task you asking me to undertake. It wouldn't be right for me to accept this assignment without giving it some thought."

"We understand," said Akingbade. "Would forty-eight hours be enough time?"

"I-I suppose." He shrugged.

"Excellent!" Hermione exclaimed. "President Picquery-Tomlinson, always a pleasure!" Hermione stood, giving the other woman a nod.

"Absolutely! I look forward to the economic summit in October. See you soon!" The flames in the hearth surged and the President disappeared.

"Mr. Akingbade, it has been an honor to have you here as well." The Supreme Mugwump shook hands all around, and stepped into the hearth, disappearing in another surge of green flame.

"Minister—Hermione—I hope we'll have the chance to get together before I return to the U.S." Kingsley embraced Hermione.

"We'd love to have you over for dinner. I'll check my diary and we'll set something up," she smiled. "Harry, you and Ginny should join us!"

"I'd love to," he said. "Of course arranging dinner with Ginny these days is like catching a Snitch." He chuckled.

"Really?" Hermione gave him a curious look. Harry pursed his lips. He hadn't intended to mention his domestic situation in such a manner.

"It's nothing. She's just been really busy lately." He waved nonchalantly. "Let us know. I'm sure she'd enjoy a night out." He clapped Kingsley's shoulder. "Kingsley."

"Harry." Kingsley shook his hand with a firm grip. "You really should consider this assignment. It could put you on the map for a position with ICW Magical Security Council."

"Ah, mate. You know I'm not a politician."

"I recall saying the same thing a little over twenty years ago." Kingsley raised a brow. "Good to see you both." He stepped into the hearth and departed.

Harry accompanied Hermione back to her office, both shivering a bit after their prolonged time inside the warmth of the Kiln.

"Harry, is there something—" she began, but abruptly stopped speaking and stormed up the corridor to her secretary's desk, where a heated confrontation was taking place between her assistant and a woman attired in garish green robes and sporting bright blonde curls.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Harry exclaimed. He touched his wand to his DMLE badge.

"Would someone care to explain what a 'journalist'" Hermione made air-quotes. "With only level _two_ press credentials is doing in a Ministry Department that is restricted to level _four_ -credentialed members of the press!" she demanded.

"Minister, do you or Mr. Potter care to comment on Young Malfoy's elopement from a Wizengamot hearing on charges of violating the Statute of Secrecy?" Rita whipped out her Quick-Quotes Quill and a parchment.

"I do not!" Hermione gave Skeeter a look of disdain.

"Is it true that you apprehended Malfoy as he attempted to infiltrate the Department of Mysteries?"

"The Department of Magical Law Enforcement does not comment on proceedings of the Wizengamot Office of Juvenile Affairs."

A perplexed-looking Auror raced through the department doors, just as two senior-level Aurors apparated into the Minister's outer office.

"I-I'm not certain what happened, Madame Minister. I-I had to use the loo? Ex-except, apparently I didn't?"

"A Confundus charm? You really fell for that, Maddox?" Harry pinched his brow. "Gentlemen. Take Ms. Skeeter into custody for breach of Ministry Security. Place her on a forty-eight hour hold, pending a Wizengamot hearing. Send Sterling up to cover this office, until the Secondary Security Unit arrives." The Aurors nodded and placed Rita under a secure binding charm before disapparating. He turned back to the other young Auror with a glare, " _You_ are relieved of duty until further notice. I will see you in my office at nine a.m. sharp! You are dismissed!"

"Merlin's pestle!" Hermione swore as Harry escorted her back to her office.

"You really ought to have that woman's credentials revoked," Harry suggested.

"I've made the suggestion numerous times, as did Kingsley when he was in office. Skeeter's got so much dirt on Wizengamot Archontes, the move never gains any traction. She's more slippery than Lucius Malfoy at the height of the war!" She dropped into her desk chair and ran her fingers through her hair. "Speaking of which, what _did_ happen with Scorpius?" she asked. "Did he really try to make a run for it?"

"Not exactly." Harry took a seat in one of the armchairs in front of her desk. "During the recess for deliberations, he had a panic attack. I don't think he was actually intending to run away. Draco went after him, and they wound up in the Department of Mysteries. Draco got stuck in the Entrance Chamber. I found Scorpius in the Death Chamber." Hermione let out a gasp.

"No!"

"Fortunately, I got to him before he got too near the veil."

"He could hear them? The voices that you and Luna described?" she asked.

"Well, his mother _has_ passed on." Harry shrugged, regretfully.

"Shame, that." Hermione murmured. "So what was the outcome of the hearing?"

"They let him keep his wand. I mentioned in my statement, that I really believe his behavior was more of a coping mechanism for the stresses he's had to deal with. He seems genuinely remorseful."

"Well, only time will tell. Hugo says that he seems nice enough. He gets picked on at school, even by some of the Slytherins."

"Well, that's one worry, he won't have to contend with any more. He's been expelled from Hogwarts." Harry pursed his lips.

"Really? I'll bet Draco had plenty to say about that!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Actually, Draco was rather stoic. His disappointment was evident, but he simply admonished Scorpius to walk with his chin up, and they left." Harry swiped a hand over his face, scratching the stubble on his chin. "I rather feel bad for them, to be perfectly honest."

"Al's going to be just devastated when he finds out!" she shook her head.

"I don't know. Scorpius said something that made me wonder if they haven't had a falling out of some sort."

"Did he?"

"In the midst of his panic, he mentioned something about losing Albus forever, and something that he never should have told him. Whatever it was, he thought that Albus would never speak to him again." Harry stood. "I suppose I should get going. Whatever has happened, Albus is bound to be distressed by it."

"I understand. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help." Hermione stood, rounding her desk to give Harry a hug. "I'll be in touch about dinner with Kingsley."

"Sure." Harry gave her a smile and stepped into her hearth to floo directly to his office, where he gathered a few files and put them into his briefcase.

Harry greeted a few people as he exited the DMLE and took the lift down to the Atrium. He nodded to the security wizard on duty and headed for an exit fireplace.

"Potter!" the sound of Harry's name resounded in the cavernous hall, giving several people pause. Harry turned to see Draco Malfoy rushing in his direction, robes disheveled, and a stricken look upon his face.

"Malfoy?"

"He's gone! Scorpius has disappeared!"

* * *

The bell on his hearth tinkled incessantly, and Albus immediately leapt from his bed and knelt in front of the fireplace, tossing in a pinch of floo powder. Scorpius' tormented expression was all he needed to see to know that things had not gone well at all.

"Oh, Scorpius, no!" he moaned.

"May I come through?" Scorpius hiccupped. " _Please!_ " he begged.

Albus hesitated a moment, and heaved a resolute sigh, before he dragged the fire screen aside and cast a privacy spell.

"C'mon!" he gestured to Scorpius, who stepped out of the hearth a second later. Albus pulled him into a tight hug, and Scorpius sobbed for several minutes.

"Is—is it o-okay for me to be here?" he quietly hiccupped.

"Lily's at Aunt Hermione's and James is with Teddy. I locked the door and cast a privacy spell—I think."

" _Muffliato!_ " Scorpius pointed his wand at the door and window. "Just in case." He gave a weak smile as he tucked it back into his robes.

"They let you keep your wand!"

"But I can't go back to Hogwarts!" Scorpius complained. "We'll never—I mean—" he paused, stepping away from Albus. "I'm sorry. I should—" He turned to the fireplace, reaching for the floo powder.

"Scorpius, wait!" Scorpius paused, but did not turn back to him. "W-why did you leave so abruptly the other day?"

"I—you were freaking out."

"No, I wasn't."

"Look. I told you, I was emotional. Everything is so fucked up right now."

"So…you _don't_ have feelings for me?" Albus asked.

"I don't—Albus—I don't _know!_ Maybe I do. I think about you all the time. Term holiday is torture! Nobody knows me like you do. Nobody understands me like you do! You're the reason I keep trying so hard to get Rose to like me. It's not _her_ I want to be with! It's _you!_ " Scorpius finally turned to him. Albus stared at him in shock, his mouth agape.

"Scorpius, I—I don't—" he began. His mind was a jumbled mess and his heart pounded painfully in his chest. "I mean, I—"

"I-I'm sorry! Please don't hate me, Albus! I'd rather have you as a friend than not have you at all!" Scorpius' eyes filled with tears.

"For Merlin's sake would you _stop_ interrupting me!" Albus' tone was filled with exasperation. Scorpius sniffled, biting his lip.

The two young wizards stood awkwardly avoiding each other's eyes for several tense moments, until finally Albus heaved a sigh, raking his fingers through his hair. He grabbed the lapels of Scorpius' finely tailored robes and pulled him close, pressing their lips together.

* * *

Harry apparated himself and Draco back to his office, avoiding the curious onlookers in the atrium. He warded the door and turned to the other wizard, who paced anxiously in front of his desk.

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"Father! The fucking _bastard!_ No sooner had we arrived home, than he's there with Madame Březina!"

"Madame Březina?"

"Headmistress of Durmstrang! Can you _believe?_ After I'd explicitly told him in no uncertain terms that I would never send Scorpius to that prison! Astoria would _never_ forgive me!"

"Surely, Scorpius had to know that you wouldn't do such a thing!"

"Of course I wouldn't! I _promised_ him, Potter! Only, the boy was in such a state after the hearing! He—he just ran out! I've searched the entire house from the attic to the cellar, and every inch of secret passages. I've checked the folly, kennels, stables, the old groundskeeper's lodge, aviary, and every single conservatory. I flew over the maze and even the lake where Astoria and I used to take him on picnics when he was younger! He's completely disappeared! What if something happens to him, Potter? I've already lost the one true friend I've ever had! I can't lose him too!" Draco sank into the chair in front of Harry's desk and bowed his head, loose strands of his fair hair shrouded his face as he stared at his hands. Harry perched on the edge of his desk.

"What does Scorpius usually do when he is upset? Is there someplace special that he retreats to?" he asked. Draco raked his hands through his hair.

"I suppose, he usually hides in his room, or the nursery. Since we lost Astoria, I've found him at the folly, beside her grave."

"But you didn't find him in any of those places this time?"

"I checked them all first," Draco insisted. "I swear, I could hex Father straight into oblivion!"

"Calm down, Malfoy. Let's just go about this sensibly. He's not in any of the usual places. What about elsewhere on the estate? Were all of your horses and transport brooms accounted for?"

"I bought him a new gelding for his birthday, but I saw it in the paddock when I searched the stables. Both of his brooms were in the cupboard with mine in the Grand Foyer. Scorpius doesn't wander about in the woods. These days, the outlying land isn't warded, and he's been warned of the possibility of encountering muggles." He held up his hands at Harry's exasperated look. "It's not that, but I _thought_ I'd done a better job of teaching him to be wary of using magic in the presence of the non-magical."

"Point taken," Harry acquiesced. He summoned a piece of parchment and a quill, quickly scribbling a note. "Right then. Quiggles!" A house-elf appeared with a resounding crack.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Potter, sir!" The tiny elf gave him a bow and an exaggerated salute. Harry handed him the note.

"Deliver this to Chester Davies in the Improper Use of Magic Office. Tell him that I need this inquiry run immediately and to return results the moment he has them."

"Right away, sir!"

"What was that all about?" Draco asked, indignant that Harry would concern himself with clerical matters when he had come to him for assistance with his crisis.

"I think I might have a hunch as to where Scorpius might be, but I'd like to be absolutely certain before we leap in with wands blazing. Given that he is underage, if he's used any magic at all, since you last saw him, we might be able to locate him using the Trace."

" _Might?"_

"If he's in the vicinity of other mages, things become a bit trickier." The house elf returned with a rolled parchment, and handed it to Harry, who unfurled and examined it. Draco stood and looked over his shoulder.

"That's a map of the grounds at the Manor!" he declared.

"Are your parents in residence?" Harry asked.

"They live in the lodge just there," Draco pointed.

"And what's this building?" Harry asked, pointing to a blinking blue dot.

"Why, that's the old coachman's cottage! I checked, and no one was there! I'm certain of it! I even cast a revealing spell! I don't understand!"

"I'm sure you are correct, Malfoy, but this does indicate that Scorpius was in fact there within the last three hours." Harry scribbled on another parchment, and folded it, handing it to the waiting elf. "Have Madam Edgecombe send me a connections report for this floo address, please. Tell her, I need it ASAP." Barely five minutes passed before the elf reappeared, bearing a small note. Harry unfolded it, and Draco anxiously looked over his shoulder once again.

"Connection _unknown!_ " Draco groaned. "How is that even possible? What are you doing?" he demanded when Harry began to gather his belongings.

"I'm leaving."

"I beg your pardon? _What about my son?_ " Harry gave him a smile, raising a brow. "You know where he is?"

"Of course I do. It says right there on the report." He opened the door. Draco stared at him, dumbfounded. "Coming?"

* * *

Scorpius stood, frozen with astonishment. The warmth radiating from Albus' body, his firm grip on Scorpius' arms and the tender yet insistent pressure of the other wizard's lips against his sent a rush of excitement through him, and prickled his skin with goosebumps. Scorpius let out a sigh and parted his lips, returning the kiss. He placed his hands on Albus' waist. They clung to one another, kissing until Scorpius felt an unbidden stirring below his waist. He pushed Albus away.

"Wait—Albus—wait! What are you doing?"

"Kis…sing you?" Albus answered uncertainly. His cheeks glowed bright red, and he touched a hand to his tingling lips. The realization of what they'd done descended upon him like a ton of bricks. "I _kissed_ you!" he breathed. " _We kissed!_ "

"I know!" Scorpius exclaimed. "What have we _done?_ Merlin!" He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed.

"I erm…I rather liked it," Albus confessed, sinking down beside him.

"Y-you _did?_ " Scorpius sheepishly glanced at him.

"Didn't you?"

"I—Merlin, yes!" he breathed. Scorpius felt a flush creep up his neck and spread across his cheeks. "Erm…c-could I…kiss you…a-again?" he asked.

"I'd like that," Albus whispered. They turned to one another, and Scorpius cupped Albus' chin in his hands.

They began to kiss once more, and Scorpius leaned into him, until they were reclining on the large bed, their arms wrapped around one another, bodies pressed close. Albus let out a soft sigh.

"You're so beautiful!" Scorpius whispered.

"How will I ever survive Hogwarts alone?" Albus whimpered.

"I can't breathe without you!" Scorpius quietly declared.

"Shhh! Let's just have our now." They began to kiss anew, until they were startled by the sound of voices on the stairs, growing closer.

* * *

"The Trace only detected his last use of magic in a plottable location. That's what led me to believe he might have come here," said Harry as he led Draco up the stairs.

"Shit!" Albus and Scorpius sat up, listening apprehensively. "My dad! Who's he talking to?" Albus summoned a pair of extendable ears from his desk, and passed one to Scorpius. They fed them under the door to listen.

"I see you've removed the severed elf heads. They gave me nightmares after the first time we visited."

"You've been here?"

"Once or twice, when I was very small."

* * *

"That's Father! Shit! Shit!" Scorpius threw down the extendable ear and moved towards the fireplace. Albus grabbed his wrist.

"Wait! If he's here, they already know you're here! No sense running now."

* * *

"When the Floo Network showed an untraceable connection, there was only one unplottable address I could think of." Harry gestured to his son's closed door. "Albus! Open the door son!" He knocked soundly.

Scorpius gave Albus a pleading look, and Albus returned it with a placating expression, before flicking his wand. The door swung open and the two older wizards gazed upon their younger selves.

"Scorpius!" Draco exclaimed. "Have you any idea how worried I was?"

"Dad, how could you let them throw Scorpius out of Hogwarts?" Albus cried.

"It isn't that simple, Albus," Harry explained. "You're supposed to get permission before allowing floo visitors, son."

"I won't go to Durmstrang!" Scorpius protested. "I'll leave, and make myself untraceable!" he threatened.

"Scorpius don't say that!" Albus scolded him. "Dad! He was upset! He just needed someone to talk to!" he insisted.

"Scorpius, I would never send you to Durmstrang!" Draco crossed the room to his son. "Didn't I swear it? Have I ever broken a promise to you?"

"It isn't fair!" Albus complained. Harry went to Albus, and placed his hands on the boy's shoulders.

"I know it's difficult, Albus, but it's the decision of the court, and we have to abide by it, whether we like it or not."

"You're not the one who has to go back to Hogwarts alone!" Albus muttered, turning away from his father, and sprawling across his bed.

"What am I going to do, if I can't go back to Hogwarts?" Scorpius lamented.

"We will figure something out."

"Harry? What's going on? Malfoy?" The four wizards turned to see Ginny standing in the doorway wearing an expression of confusion and surprise.

"Ginny! You're home early," Harry noted.

"Ginevra." Draco nodded.

"What are they doing here?" Ginny demanded. "Albus, what have you gotten into?"

"Wha—why must I have done something?" Albus whined. He gave his mother a wounded look.

"Because I come home to a cacophony of noise, and find Malfoys standing in my son's room complaining about fairness and refusing to go to Durmstrang!" Ginny glared at Draco and Scorpius. "You know, I heard Rita Skeeter going on about how he absconded from the hearing and had to be dragged out of the Department of Mysteries!"

"It's in the _paper?"_ Scorpius wailed.

"Ginny!" Harry snapped. "It isn't in the paper, Scorpius. Rita has been detained for a breach in Ministry Security. Besides _The Prophet_ isn't allowed to report on cases before the Juvenile Affairs panel. Don't worry," he assured the boy before turning back to his wife.

"If he's somehow gotten our son involved in his shenanigans, Harry—"

"Mum!"

"Ginny, that is _enough!_ Surely you must realize that the boys have been dealt a severe blow today. Neither has had an easy time of it at school, and now they're to be separated. You might show a bit of compassion."

"Really, Harry? Really?" Ginny curled her lip in disgust. "Twenty years is hardly long enough!" She gave him a resentful look and spun on her heel before disapparating. A moment later, they heard a distant pop followed by a door slamming somewhere below.

"We should go," Draco said. He tugged at the lapels of his robes and gave his hair a toss. "I think that's enough excitement for one day, don't you, Scorpius?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter," Scorpius apologized.

"It's alright, Scorpius, but you did give your father a pretty serious fright—and not for the first time today." Harry raised a brow. "I realize things have been difficult, but maybe try and give him a chance. I'm sure you'll come up with something that will work out for the best."

"Dad, can Scorpius and his dad stay for tea?" Albus begged. Harry pursed his lips.

"I _don't_ think Mum would be too happy with that, son. Perhaps some other time."

"Fine." Albus mumbled, shoulders slumped.

"Draco, maybe we can give the boys a moment?"

"Oh, erm…right! Of course. Tell me, Potter. I seem to recall a room with a _massive_ tapestry. You wouldn't have kept it would you?" he asked.

"Oh, you mean the Black Family tree. As a matter of fact, we did. It's in the drawing room…"

Harry led Draco from the room, and Albus peeked out of the door until he saw them turn at the landing. He closed it, and Scorpius pressed him against it, with a crushing kiss. They clung to one another desperately.

"Scorpius!"

"Albus!"

"I'm…sorry about…Mum—"

"I don't _care!_ Just promise you won't forget about me!" Scorpius begged.

"I'll write to you every day!"

"I'll _insist_ that Father invite you for Yule!"

"I'll _make_ Dad let me visit!"

* * *

Draco gazed at the branch the featured portraits of himself, Astoria and Scorpius, marveling at how the tapestry's sentient ability to know when the family composition had changed. He slowly turned, examining the ancient textile, marred in places by scorch marks where his great aunt and other ancestors had removed undesirable family members. Draco's eye landed on the significant Weasley branch, showing the seven children, and now the newest generation of Molly and Arthur's progeny.

"Whoever would have thought that you and I would end up on the same family tree!" he mused with a chuckle.

"If the old bat were alive today, she'd have burned the entire thing!" Harry laughed. Draco smiled, before his expression turned sober.

"Erm…I should thank you, Potter. You didn't have to speak on Scorpius' behalf. I appreciate you coming to his aid, and taking the time to assist me in finding him."

"It's nothing. Kids…they struggle. Merlin knows you and I had our stripes to bear," said Harry. Draco grimaced at the thought. "If I'm to believe all that Al has told us about him over these last few years, I know that Scorpius is a good kid deep down."

"I suppose I might have guessed that he would seek out your boy. Young Albus appeared most distressed to learn that Scorpius has been expelled. I guess I didn't realize the depth of their friendship."

"Al's a sensitive kid. He isn't affable like James, or quick-witted like Lily. He just doesn't have much self-confidence. I do wish he believed in himself a bit more."

"Sounds a bit like Longbottom," Draco remarked.

"Yeah. I guess he does. It isn't easy being my son. Scorpius seems to have a way of making him relax though."

"I daresay Albus does the same for Scorpius. Malfoy doesn't carry the same weight it used to. Scorpius was devoted to Astoria. There's a void there, but when he speaks of your boy, Scorpius lights up, and he doesn't seem as angry or empty inside."

"Friends like that only come along once in a lifetime. Ron was my first real friend. I can't imagine how things might have turned out, had I not met him on the Express that day."

"Who knows, Potter? Perhaps you'd have accepted the hand of a posh wizard named Malfoy." Draco's lips curled into his characteristic smirk. A shiver snaked up Harry's spine, but before he could respond, they heard footsteps on the stairs.

"Dad?" Albus called out.

"In the drawing room, son!" A moment later, Albus and Scorpius appeared, their expressions still somewhat morose, but less distressed. Harry noticed that they held hands, but they released their clasp when each caught his father's eye.

"Ready to go, son?" Draco gave Scorpius a sympathetic smile.

"No," Scorpius pouted. Draco sighed. "I'm only being honest."

"That's understandable. Come. We'll have dinner at Nimue's Cup. Are we able to apparate from here?" Draco asked.

"Oh, yeah. Of course," Harry replied.

"Very well." Draco extended his hand, and Harry gave it a firm shake. "Thank you, Potter."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter." Scorpius shook Harry's hand. He and Albus embraced once again. "Write me?" he whispered.

"Every day!" Albus promised.

"You may continue to floo, Scorpius. However, our children are not allowed to receive calls after…ten p.m." Albus looked at his father in shock. Harry winked.

"Right then. Shall we go, Scorpius?" Draco offered his elbow, and his son grasped it firmly before the pair disapparated.

* * *

 _Ginny's not a happy camper! How will Harry handle the situation, given what he's learned about her? Stay tuned!_


	6. Departures

**_Chapter 6—Departures_**

The three Potter children quietly ate, while nervously eyeing their parents. James narrowed his eyes at Albus.

"What did you do?" he mouthed across the table.

" _Nothing!_ "

Harry set his knife down with a clatter, and dabbed his mouth with his napkin.

"I, erm, have a bit of news," he said.

"Oh?" Ginny's voice was cool.

"What's that, Dad?" Albus asked, looking away from his brother's gaze.

"You're not pregnant, are you, mum?" asked Lily.

"Oh my _god,_ Lily!" James exclaimed.

"No, sweetheart. Mum's not going to have a baby," Harry patted her hand, but eyed Ginny warily. She glared at him in return.

"Actually, Aunt Hermione called me in for a meeting with the Supreme Mugwump and MACUSA President Picquery-Tomlinson this afternoon. It seems that Kingsley put my name up for a special assignment."

"Like a new job?" asked Lily.

"Something like that—more of a temporary duty assignment," Harry replied.

A sense of foreboding washed over Albus, and he eyed his father warily.

"Does this mean you'll be going away?" James asked. "For how long?"

"Well, this is sort of a different type of situation. I can bring you all along actually." Harry gave a disarming smile.

"What exactly do you mean bring us along, Harry?" Ginny asked. She set her silverware down, giving him a hard stare. "What kind of temporary duty allows for you to bring your family? Where is this assignment?"

"America."

" _America! They're mad! The United States?_ " his family exclaimed, all talking at once.

"So, you've decided with Hermione and Kingsley that I should just leave my job, and move to America? What about the kids? Are we going to uproot them too?"

"It's my _final year,_ Dad!" James declared. "I'm _Head Boy!_ "

"Exactly!" Ginny co-signed her son's statement.

"What about our friends?" Lily asked.

"Yeah." Albus added.

"You haven't got any friends," said James.

"Piss off, James!" Albus glared at his brother. "I do too!"

"Your little boyfriend doesn't count! Or should I say, ex—isn't he about to be expelled from Hogwarts?"

 _Vermiculus!_

James' dinner transformed into a mass of wriggling worms. Lily shrieked and James leapt back, upsetting his chair into the china dresser, and sending several plates crashing to the floor.

"You stupid fuckwit!" James yelled, whipping out his wand, and pointing it at his brother.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Harry disarmed his older son, and vanished the worm infested plate and broken china. " _Evanesco!_ That is enough! James Sirius, you watch your language! We do _not_ use wands at the table, or jinx family members!" he bellowed, glaring at both of his sons. "Apologize at once!"

"What for?"

"He started it!"

"Why didn't you take _his_ wand?"

" _Enough!_ I said _apologize! Both_ of you!"

"Sorry. I apologize." Both boys mumbled, slouching in their chairs and refusing to meet one another's eyes. "May I have my wand back?"

"After dinner." Harry swiped a hand over his face. "Now then. You kids may continue to attend Hogwarts, or President Tomlinson has also suggested you might attend Ilvermorny on exchange if you wish."

"I'm not leaving Hogwarts," Lily declared.

"No way, I'm missing Seventh Year!" James muttered.

"Albus?" Harry looked at his sullen, younger son, who shrugged.

"I don't care." Harry sighed, helplessly, giving him a sympathetic look.

"Ginny, Tomlinson also said they'd arrange a position for you with the Allied Magical Press. You could write freelance."

"So, you've just got it all figured out, yeah?" Ginny's tone was sarcastic, as she shrugged, pushing away her plate. "No need to ask us our opinion, innit?"

"Ginny—"

"I suppose the house is all picked out too, yeah?"

"May we be excused?" asked Lily. Her mother's voice had taken on a hint of West Country brogue, a signal of the Weasley women's legendary fury. Ginny waved her hand and the three teenagers bolted from the table.

"It's a part of the assignment."

"Why bother even discussing it then, Harry. It's clear that you're planning to accept—or have you already said 'yes'?"

"I haven't, Ginny. I told them I'd need to discuss it with all of you first!" Harry protested. Ginny scoffed. She pushed away from the table, leaving him alone in the dining room. He sighed and went to the library, where she stood at one of the tall French doors, looking out into the garden.

"Ginny—"

"You do whatever you want to do, Harry. You always do."

"Come on, Gin. You're not being fair."

"Really? So, now we allow the kids-Albus to have visitors in the house when we're not home? Not just any visitors— _Malfoys!_ "

"I've already explained that!" Harry maintained.

"I don't want our son associating with him! He's a delinquent! And you spoke up for him, didn't you? Just like his dad!"

"We've been over this, Ginny. I'm not going to apologize for doing my job. Don't change the subject!"

"Okay, let's talk about your _job!_ " She wheeled around to face him. "What if I don't want to leave? Did you even consider that, Harry?"

"Personally, I think I change of pace would be good for us," he argued.

"I don't _want_ a change of pace!" she insisted.

"Maybe Gordon Horton is all the change you need," Harry muttered, going to the credenza and unstoppering a bottle of Quintin Black.

"What did you say?" Ginny's voice was low and predatory. Harry took his time, pouring a measure of liquor into his glass and swirling it around.

"I saw the two of you at James' final." He took a seat in one of the club chairs near the fireplace, and sipped his drink. "If you don't want to go to America, fine. Don't go." He shrugged. "Just don't pretend this is about me."

"Are you having a laugh?" Ginny stared at him incredulously. "It's _always_ been about you, Harry! You're so busy saving the world, you don't even know how to live in it!" she ranted. "And who gives a shit about anybody else who matters, you just go charging off half-cocked and ready for a fight!"

"That's not true!" he protested.

"Isn't it? You dragged Hermione and _my brother_ around all over the back country for _nearly a year! You left me, Harry!"_ Ginny yelled. "You fucking _left me!_ And when you came back, you _went. Off. To. Die!_ You made your decision—without me!" She exhaled slowly, and when she spoke again, her voice was low and malevolent. "Now, I'm making a decision without you, Harry Potter."

Ginny stormed out of the room, and a moment later, Harry heard the front door slam. He heaved a long sigh, and tossed back his drink. He summoned the bottle and filled the glass this time, slumping in the chair and staring into the fireplace.

* * *

Scorpius lay on his back in front of the fireplace of his apartment sitting room, lazily twirling his wand. Above him, two parchment dragons, transfigured from his astronomy homework, chased one another through the air. He sighed and flicked his wand, sending the beasts diving into the flame, and rolled onto his stomach.

Dinner had been a strained affair at best, though Scorpius ha to give his father credit for making an effort to distract him from his worries.

 _"_ _I've a wonderful idea! You've been begging me to allow you to attend la vendemmia at Castello di Fuoco Serpentino. Why not go this year? There is a beautiful view of the valley from the central tower. It will be yours when you receive your birthright. It's never too early to begin your study of viticulture."_

 _"_ _I suppose," Scorpius replied, flatly._

 _"_ _I had intended to take your mother on a world tour for our twentieth anniversary. You and I could go abroad. We can go on the Nundu safari in Africa," Draco suggested._

 _"_ _You know, I read a muggle article which posits that sport hunting has begun to decimate entire species, with far reaching effects, including a devastating impact on the ecosystem."_

 _"_ _Is this what you've learned in—" Scorpius knew his father was about to mention Muggle Studies, which had been made a compulsory class after the war, but he feigned ignorance of his father's slip, and awkward attempt to cover it. "You've done quite a bit of reading about muggles, yes?"_

 _"_ _Well…" Scorpius turned the stem of his wine glass._

 _"_ _And the Potter boy has cultivated this fascination?"_

 _"_ _Albus is very knowledgeable about muggle culture," Scorpius replied defensively. "Did you know that they have an automobile? They attend the cinema. It's like watching theatre, except on a large screen with lots of noise and really interesting machines like airplanes, and these things called space ships, and sometimes creatures more amazing than the ones we read about in school. Their clothes are so interesting and practical! Albus and his sister and brother even attended a muggle primary school."_

 _"_ _Really. Well, Albus' father was raised among muggles. His mother was muggleborn, so he understands their world, I suppose. It seems so…so…primitive!" Draco declared. A house elf arrived pushing a dessert cart. Draco declined, but Scorpius chose a tarte Tatin individuelle._

 _"_ _But Father, have you ever been in the muggle world?" Scorpius asked, taking a bite of the decadent dessert._

 _"_ _I—hmm. No, my son. I don't believe that I have. Grandfather and Grandmother had instilled in me an intense intolerance of all things muggle. I thought that they were brutish and obtuse, and untrustworthy. After all, they had persecuted our ancestors before the Statute of Secrecy was enacted."_

 _"_ _I know all of that, Father, but Minister Granger-Weasley may be onto something. It is to our peril that we refuse to learn anything from them."_

 _"_ _And what have you learned from them, that you can't do better with magic?" Draco asked._

 _"_ _The curse that caused Mother's ill health might have been treated and destroyed with muggle medicine." Draco stared at Scorpius with his mouth agape. The young wizard shrugged, smiling weakly. "Father, if I'm to be responsible for the completion of my education henceforth, I would like to create my own curriculum. I want to petition the Wizarding Examinations Authority for the opportunity to sit for my O.W.L.s, but I would also like to undertake a closer examination of the muggle world, and a reading of those aspects of the trivium and quadrivium that are not taught in the magical curriculum."_

 _"_ _That is quite a lofty goal, my son."_

 _"_ _When has a Malfoy ever allowed a challenge to hinder him? Father, we could explore it together. You might discover that it's not such a bad place." Scorpius insisted. Draco looked into his son's eyes, and saw a flicker of something he hadn't recognized in quite some time. He sipped his wine thoughtfully._

 _"_ _I don't know son."_

Scorpius thought back on his dinner conversation with his father as he leafed through the essays and charts he'd spent days completing ahead of his classes—assignments that he would not have the opportunity to present to his instructors. He knew that his father was more than capable of teaching him, as he'd spent a significant portion of his holiday at his father's side, learning advanced potion-making technique and obscure recipes, studying alchemical manuscripts, observing the stars, and applying new and little-known spells to his dueling arsenal.

He already knew more magic than many of his peers when he arrived at Hogwarts, and was confident that he might even already be quite capable of passing his O.W.L.s without much further study. He knew that it would take serious effort on his part to convince anyone that he should at least be given the opportunity to have his skills officially documented, but he would have much preferred to prove himself at Hogwarts.

A tubular bell beside the hearth sounded, and Scorpius scrambled over the fireplace, summoning the vessel where his floo powder was kept. He smiled broadly, tossing in a pinch. Albus' head appeared in the flames with and expression of vexation.

"What's the matter?"

"I—I don't know…everything," Albus replied.

"Do you want to come through?" Scorpius asked. Albus hesitated a moment and looked over his shoulder.

"Well, okay, but just for a bit."

Scorpius smiled and moved away from the hearth. A moment later, Albus stepped out of the fireplace.

"Wow!" he exclaimed, looking around the finely appointed room.

Two sets of tall double doors faced each other at opposite ends of the room in traditional enfiladed apartment style. Albus could see through the open set, an opulent bedchamber, and assumed the opposite entry led to another room, or perhaps the corridor beyond. The high coffered ceiling boasted scenes from Tales of Beedle the Bard—the center panel playing out the Tale of the Three Brothers, in vivid detail. A comfortable arrangement of furniture faced the fireplace, including a loveseat, and wing-backed armchairs all upholstered in luxurious silvery grey damask fabric. The walls were hung with cabinet paintings, most depicting woodland scenes or varieties of dragons and other magical creatures. Beyond the seating area, there was a well-appointed writing desk. A handsome Siamese cat was curled upon a luxurious velvet bed, its bright blue eyes keenly observing the two young wizards.

"I didn't know you had a cat," Albus remarked.

"He belonged to my mother, but we seemed to have bonded recently. His name is Niran I'd intended to bring him with me to school this term."

Seeming to know that he was being talked about, the slender cat approached them, nudging Albus' leg. He bent to pick him up.

"So, did you miss me that much already?" Scorpius teased.

"Maybe." Albus gave a half-smile, as he scratched between the cat's ears. "

"Is something the matter?" Scorpius asked. He placed a hand on Albus' arm.

"Mum and Dad had a terrible row."

"About me?"

"No." They sat down in front of the fireplace, and Scorpius flicked his wand to gather his papers. "That your schoolwork?" Albus asked. The cat scrambled away and returned to his bed.

"Forget about that. What happened with your parents?" Scorpius deflected his question.

"Well, the whole thing was a mess, honestly. We were having dinner, and Mum was giving Dad these cold looks. I guess she was still hacked off about the way he talked to her in front of you and your Dad. Then Dad makes this big announcement."

"Really?"

"Yeah. He's been given a temporary assignment by the International Confederation of Wizards. Apparently the Supreme Mugwump asked him personally."

"Wow! Must be important."

"He didn't say exactly what the job was, just that…well, it's in America."

" _America?_ "

"Yeah."

"Are you—are you _going away?_ "

"I don't—I don't know, honestly. James and Lily were all up in arms about school, and James and I had a row. He started having a go at me, about how I haven't got any friends to miss me, especially since you've been excluded—then I jinxed his dinner plate into worms. He knocked his chair into the china dresser and broke a bunch of plates, and then he tried to hex me, but dad disarmed him and yelled at us both. Dad tried to explain that we could all continue to go to Hogwarts, or we could enroll at Ilvermorny. Apparently, it's all been arranged."

" _Ilvermorny?_ "

"I don't think I'd like that much at all. Either way, I wouldn't get to see you."

"So what did your Mum say?"

"Mum was furious. She yelled at Dad for making plans and not including any of us. They sent us up to bed, but I sat on the stairs and listened. She accused him of always wanting to be the hero, and leaving everyone else behind. Something about the war, when he and Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione went off to try to stop Tom Riddle. I think he broke up with her before they left or something, but—" Albus heaved a sigh and stared into the flames flickering in the hearth.

"What?"

"Dad accused Mum of cheating on him."

"No way! How does he know?"

"He saw them together at James' Quidditch match."

"Merlin!" Scorpius slumped back against the sofa. "Wait—did _you_ see them?"

"No, but—well, Dad said it's…erm…Gordon Horton."

"Wait! _The_ Gordon Horton? The keeper for Chudley Canons?"

"That's what Dad said." Albus shrugged. "That's when Mum yelled at him about never being there for her, and…and then she left."

"Really?"

"She's never left when they've had a row before. I think they might be splitting up."

Scorpius put his arm about Albus' shoulder, and the dark haired young wizard leaned into him.

"I'm really sorry, Albus. Maybe it won't be as bad as all that. They're both probably really emotional right now."

"That's just the strange thing about it," Albus replied. "Dad didn't seem terribly bothered about it at all. He told Mum that she could do whatever she wanted. He didn't even chase after her when she stormed out!"

"Merlin!" Scorpius remarked. "I don't really know what to say to that, love. I can't remember my parents ever having a row. I guess Father was too worried about what might happen if Mother became upset."

"What do you think she'd say about us?" Albus wondered aloud.

"I don't know. She was happy that I'd found a friend in you. She wanted to meet you, actually, but Father wouldn't allow it. We've never been terribly social. He thought it would be too stressful for Mother, and she never wanted anyone to pity us. Apparently malicious gossip was alright, however." Scorpius frowned. He played his fingers in Albus' hair.

"I've heard that some traditional purebloods frown upon same-gender relationships. They're a lot like many muggles in that regard," Albus remarked.

"Muggles frown upon it? Why? It's not as if they need to worry about producing an heir in order to uphold a pure bloodline."

"They think it's a sin. The muggle government only consented to allow marriage rights a few years ago. A few decades ago, one could be imprisoned for _homosexual indecency._ " He rolled his eyes.

"That's just insane. Whoever heard of such a thing? I read in last week's _Prophet_ that Michael Grassick, the keeper for Falmouth just got engaged to Sydney Atherton—"

"That bloke who plays bass for Toil & Trouble?" Scorpius nodded.

"That's the one. According to rumour, they're planning to have the wedding where they first met. They've asked Professor McGonagall if they can have the wedding on the pitch at Hogwarts!"

"Merlin's beard! I wonder if she'll say 'yes'."

"Well Rita Skeeter reckons they've offered her a substantial sum of gold for the privilege," said Scorpius.

"McGonagall could never be bought," Albus snorted. "Of course, she is a pretty serious Quidditch fan and Grassick played for the Scottish national team."

"I think it's kind of romantic anyway," Scorpius mused. "Of course, the Old Man was utterly scandalized. He called them degenerate sodomites and criticized the paper for taking up space even reporting it."

"No question where he stands on the subject, yeah? What about your dad?"

"Father rarely says much to the Old Man. He prefers to get the obligatory family meals out of the way with as little fanfare as possible. He just muttered something about everyone ought to be able to love who they want, and the world would be a much better place if people stopped insisting that others fit in categories that are anything but neat."

"I shouldn't be surprised. How did things work out after you left ours?" Albus asked.

What happened with your dad? Were you in a lot of trouble for running away?"

"I think he's just relieved that all I did was visit your house." Scorpius shrugged. "We had dinner at the club, and he tried to cheer me up. He suggested a trip abroad. He's finally decided to take me to la vendemmia at our vineyard in Tuscany. We depart the day after tomorrow."

"That's the first…" Albus scowled slightly.

"I know, erm…" Scorpius cleared his throat. "It feels as if we're cast in some awful classic tragedy. Star-crossed lovers torn apart by forces beyond our control."

"We're not destined to tragedy!" Albus protested.

"But we can't be together," Scorpius complained.

"We _are_ together!" Albus sat up and turned to face him. "We should make a pact right now."

"A pact?"

"Absolutely!" Albus declared. "No matter what happens, we will do everything we can to stay together." Albus avowed.

"We won't give up on each other."

"Never."

"Right." They stared at each other for a moment. "Now what?"

"I don't know. Is there a spell for that sort of thing?"

"I'm _not_ making an unbreakable vow!" Scorpius insisted.

"Of _course_ not! Just a promise." The two wizards turned pensive. Albus tapped his lips with his fingers.

"Oh! I know!" Scorpius proclaimed suddenly. Albus jumped. "Take up your wand." He summoned his wand, and Albus withdrew his from his pocket. "Now, give me your hand."

Albus tentatively held out his hand, and Scorpius took it, touching his wand to it. Albus snatched his hand back.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"A spell!" Albus gave him a suspicious look. "Fine." Scorpius held out his own hand, palm up. "I'll go first. Take it!" he insisted. Albus took Scorpius' hand, regarding him warily. "Okay, cross my heart line as you say the incantation: _Vestrum Vere._ "

" _Vestrum Vere?_ "

"Yes. You have to do it, while you touch the wand to my hand. Like this." Scorpius drew an 'X' across the crease in his hand that extended from the edge of his palm under his little finger across to just below his middle finger. "Remember, you have to _mean it._ "

Albus continued to look at Scorpius apprehensively. Scorpius gave him a nod. Albus took a deep breath and touched his wand to Scorpius' hand.

" _Vestrum Vere!_ " he said, with a resolute tone as he made an 'X' on his palm. He gasped. Scorpius' palm looked as if it had been scored with a laser, and thin lines of blood appeared in the burnt gashes. "Fucking Merlin! I—"

"Relax, Albus! It's supposed to do that. Doesn't hurt a bit, see?"

"Are you sure?" Albus wasn't convinced.

"Positive. My turn." Scorpius picked up his wand.

Albus _absolutely_ did not want to do what he'd just done to Scorpius, but that wouldn't have been fair. He gritted his teeth, and held out his palm, squeezing his eyes shut. Scorpius repeated the incantation, and Albus felt a tingle when the other wizard's wand touched his flesh. He nervously opened one eye. Scorpius grinned at him.

"Now we have to take off our shirts."

"What!" Albus stared at him with large eyes.

"Just _do_ it!" said Scorpius in an exasperated tone as he unbuttoned his chemise. Albus pulled the sweatshirt he wore over his head.

Scorpius pressed his palm to Albus' chest, and he shivered, feeling the warm hand against his skin. He placed his hand on Scorpius' chest, feeling the other's heartbeat pounding into his hand. His breath caught in his throat.

"Now we pledge to one another, his immortal beloved." Scorpius instructed. Albus wasn't certain how he knew what to say, but when Scorpius spoke, he was moved to speak in unison with him.

"Forever mine, forever thine, forever us."

A faint golden glow enveloped the two young wizards and withdrew to the place beneath each hand on the other's chest. They sat in that fashion for several minutes, staring into one another's eyes. Scorpius leaned in to kiss Albus.

"You taste like magic," Scorpius whispered. Albus snorted. He slid his hands over Scorpius' pale torso, marveling at the sinewy muscle he found there.

"You know what magic tastes like?" Albus whispered back, leaning into Scorpius, who slid his hands down Albus' back, eliciting a shudder from his dark-haired counterpart.

They lay facing one another on the silk rug and continued to kiss, their hands traveling over each other, as if sculptors working on mirrored masterpieces.

"It tastes like warmth and…roast beef—" Albus laughed at that, and Scorpius snickered. "And it's soft and just a little bit sweet…" He tightened his grip on Albus, aware of the bulge against his groin. "…and electrifying!" he murmured.

Albus took Scorpius' hand, and they laced their fingers, holding tightly to one another, forehead's touching as they gazed deeply into one another's eyes.

* * *

The Hogwarts Express belched a cloud of steam that briefly shrouded platform 9 ¾, casting the bustling crowd of students and parents into shadows of mysterious beings. The Potter-Weasley clan gathered in a large huddle nearest the first passenger car. The teens, mostly attired in Gryffindor scarlet—Dominique and Lucy were in Ravenclaw, and Molly was a Hufflepuff-gossiped with one another and greeted passing friends, while their parents stood nearby, chatting.

"I haven't seen Al looking this morose since his first year," remarked Ron. Albus sat on the edge of his trolley, apart from his cousins, chin in hand. In his other, he turned what appeared to be a small silver compact.

"Malfoy," Ginny rolled her eyes with a huff. "Honestly! You'd think they were in love!"

"Ginny." Harry gave her a stern look.

"What?" She returned his gaze with a cool one.

Their in-laws and siblings glanced from wife to husband curiously. None of them knew the full details of Harry and Ginny's marital discord, only that Ginny was unhappy with Harry's decision to accept the assignment in The United States, and that she'd chosen to remain in England. The train sounded its whistle, inciting the usual flurry of last minute activity on the platform as students rushed to board the train, and parents issued last minute instructions, and reassurances while insisting on hugs and kisses and slipping forgotten items into pockets.

The Weasleys all made their goodbyes. Lily and James accepted hugs from their father, who promised to reunite the family for Christmas. Albus quietly accepted his father's hug, and half-heartedly embraced his mother before following the others on the train. He entered the first empty compartment he came across and dropped into a seat, somewhat happy that his siblings and cousins had moved on. He opened the silver compact.

He and Scorpius managed a brief floo call the previous evening, and Scorpius had given it to him as a gift. It was a two-way mirror.

"This way, we can see each other, even if we don't have a floo," Scorpius had explained, holding up his own compact mirror.

Albus thought of a small piece of broken looking glass that his father kept in the drawer of his desk. He gazed into the mirror just in time to see the handsome young blond departing an unfamiliar room. He was about to call out when the door to the compartment slid open and three girls wearing Slytherin robes stepped inside. They were led by a beautiful dark-skinned witch with long, black hair and cat-like eyes. Albus snapped the mirror shut and slid it into his pocket.

"So it's true. Malfoy got the boot and now Potter's an even bigger saddo than before!" giggled Sofia Zabini.

"Piss off, Zabini. Don't you and your coven of hags have something better to do, like finding suitable First Years for your lunch?" he scowled at her.

"I've a better idea, Potter. How about _you_ shove off before I hex the seven shades of shit out of you. Perhaps you'd prefer to arrive at the castle with a tentacle for a head." She smiled malevolently, pointing her wand.

"Zabini!" Rose snapped, standing in the doorway. "Move along. There are plenty of compartments in the next carriage." Rose tugged smartly at her robes, clearly showing off the prefect's badge she wore. Sofia gave Rose a simpering grin.

"I'll be seeing you, Potter!" she arched a brow and turned on her heel, her lackeys following her from the compartment. Albus heaved a dispirited sigh and rested his head on the window.

"No need to thank me, Al." Rose declared.

"I wasn't."

"You know, it wouldn't hurt you to _try_ and make some _real_ friends. Just because Malfoy threw away his education, doesn't mean you can't at least act like you want to be here. Fix your tie. You look like a tramp." She stormed out of the compartment, leaving him alone.

"I _don't_ want to be here," Albus mumbled as the train whistled one last time.

* * *

"Well, I've got an interview in Falmouth," Ginny announced before abruptly disapparating as the train gave its final whistle.

"What's with her?" Ron asked. Harry shrugged, shaking his head. He scanned the windows of the train for Albus.

"I'll see you at the Ministry before you depart, Harry?" asked Hermione.

"Sure thing," he affirmed distractedly.

The engine let out an almighty hiss, and the wheels began to turn. Ron and Hermione disapparated, and Harry turned back towards the barrier.

"Dad!" Harry paused, squinting through the haze at the passing windows as the train gathered speed. "Dad!" the voice was louder now, and Albus emerged from the cloud of steam.

"Albus! What on earth—"

Albus dropped his trunk and belongings that he'd trundled along behind him. His owl, Fancy, gave an indignant squawk as her cage teetered precariously atop Gonçalo's. Albus rushed to his father, who gripped his arms.

"I don't want to go back to Hogwarts!" he blurted. "I—I can't bear it! I want to go to America with you!"

"Albus—" Harry began. Albus gripped his father's sleeves tightly, his watery eyes beseeching.

" _Please, Dad!_ " he begged


	7. Welcome to Greyswood, USA

Harry checked the GPS system in the console of his SUV as he slowed to take the off-ramp into the city of Greenfield and proceeded down a wide commercial boulevard.

"Almost there, mate." He reached over and nudged Albus awake. "Welcome to Greyswood."

Albus yawned and looked out of the window. When they'd arrived in the U.S., Harry and Albus had spent a day in New York City at Kingsley's apartment while Harry attended briefings at MACUSA headquarters and the International Confederation of Wizards. Then they set out on the long drive to their new home in America's Heartland.

They drove down a colorful boulevard lined with businesses—fast food restaurants, office blocks and commercial retailers before Harry turned again. This road was less populated, and only had two lanes. Albus was reminded a bit of the roads near his grandparents' home in Ottery St. Catchpole. Neat neighborhoods were obscured by tall hedges or masonry walls. A significant difference that he'd noticed as they'd traveled, was that most American homes were detached from one another, unlike the duplexes and terraced homes in Devon, or the townhomes like those on Grimmauld Place and even Prewett Lane, the upscale wizarding suburb where Hermione and Ron lived in the Minister's Residence.

Harry slowed and turned onto a drive that boasted and elaborate stone fountain surrounded by lush landscaping. Above the fountain was a large sign that read _The Overlook at Greyswood Lake_ in backlit letters on a stone background. A tree-lined traffic island divided the road for several yards before it merged together again.

"Is this our neighborhood?" Albus asked.

"That it is, son. Keep a look out for Shoreline Road," Harry replied.

The tree lined road wound past handsome residences set back from the road, with curving driveways and lush landscaping. As they rounded a bend, two women riding along on horseback gave them a wave.

"Ah, here we are!" Harry announced, and turned onto Shoreline Road. The avenue began to slope somewhat, and after less than a minute, they pulled into a curving stone drive in front of a large craftsman style home.

"This is it?" Albus stared in wonder.

"This is it!" Harry proclaimed. "What do you think?"

Albus climbed out of the SUV and looked up at the expansive three-story house. The low-pitched gabled roof and windows were trimmed in dark brown, as were the tapered, square columns that supported the deep porch which wrapped around the side of the house. Shingled and tongue in groove siding was accented with hand-crafted stonework about the house's foundation. Its sprawling design made it appear much larger than the tall, narrow townhouse at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

"May we go inside?" he asked.

"Sure. I'll start unloading our things while you select the room you want." Harry surreptitiously flicked his wand as he opened the back of the SUV. The front door swung open and Albus ran inside.

He found himself in a large foyer, and saw immediately that the house was fully furnished with a parlour to his right and a dining room on the left. The floors were hardwood, as was the wide stair that rose in front of him. He stood for a moment, pondering whether to explore the rest of the main floor, or move to the next level. Harry helped him with the decision when he entered, carrying Albus' pets, both of whom appeared extremely agitated after having been confined for such a long period.

"Haven't you gone up to select a room yet?" Harry urged. "I'm sure these two would like to stretch a bit."

"Oh, right." Albus took Gonçalo's cage, while Harry carried Fancy, following him up the stairs.

"That's the Master suite just there," Harry pointed to a set of double doors just off the landing at the top of the stairs. "And there's three more suites on this floor. Here," he pointed to a room across from the master. "There and there." He pointed in the opposite direction across a walkway that overlooked the stairs and branched in two directions at the other end.

Albus chose the last bedroom, which featured a bay window that looked out to the road. The room was outfitted with a modular bed system, featuring beadboard paneling in a rich, cherry finish. A large bed adjacent to the door boasted storage cubbies underneath, and an over-the-bed hutch was flanked by two tower bookshelves. There was a chiffonier with a full-length mirror on the front, and a large desk with a well-appointed storage hutch with matching paneling and finish. Beneath the window was a low-slung plush modular loveseat in grey corduroy. A textured wool rug pulled the room together. All of the bedding and window dressings were in neutral shades. Albus also noted the large walk-in closet, and en suite bath, which also opened into another corridor. He placed his ferret's cage on the desk, and Harry set up the owl's cage in a corner beside the window.

"You can change the décor any way you like," said Harry. "A simple color-change charm should do the trick." Albus grimaced, remembering the disaster he'd made of his last attempt at the spell.

"I think I'll leave things as they are for the moment," he said. "Is it alright if I look around?"

"Of course! Make yourself at home. I'm dying for a shower, and then I think I'll try to floo your Mum. After that we'll scare up a bite to eat, yeah?"

"Sure." Albus shrugged.

"Brilliant. Why don't you let Fancy out of her cage? She looks angrier than a nest of doxies." Harry gave him a wink and left him alone. Albus opened the raptor's cage, and held out his arm. Fancy hooted resentfully.

"Look, it's not my fault. Besides, you didn't like travelling by portkey all that much either," Albus apologized. He went to the window and pushed it open. "This is a new place, so be careful out there." The owl hooted again before taking off.

Albus set off to explore the rest of the house, peering into the other bedrooms, where he assumed his sister and brother would take residence when they came on holiday. There was a large room just beyond his own, which was comfortably furnished much like the common rooms at Hogwarts, with grouped seating that facilitated conversation, and gaming tables, including a billiard table. A narrow stair led to yet another large room with a hearth and a wet bar. He took a back staircase that landed in a small vestibule just outside of a large, well-appointed kitchen. Albus curiously examined the gleaming stove and electric appliances. Though he'd seen them in movies and in advertisements, he'd never actually experienced one up close.

When he'd visited the Thomases' home, Albus couldn't recall ever entering their kitchen. Besides, Mrs. Thomas—being a witch—used magic for most of her entertaining needs. He wandered on past a dining nook and what he supposed was a drawing room—this house had a lot of common areas—to a set of double doors. Albus let out a sigh of wonder when he pulled them open.

"A cinema!" he exclaimed. "Merlin's beard!" He ran into the room and sank into one of the comfortable seats, gazing at the large blank screen beneath an architectural arch. "I wonder how it works!"

Albus fished inside his pocket and pulled out the silver compact mirror, opening it up. He saw only the interior of the other mirror compact, and sighed. Albus and Scorpius had only had one conversation since his arrival in the United States. He recalled at the time Scorpius mentioned that he and his father were going abroad again. Perhaps they were travelling at that very moment. He tucked the mirror back into his pocket, wanting to keep it close in case the other wizard tried to contact him. He left the theatre and wandered out to the porch at the back of the house.

"Yesss!" Albus exclaimed, seeing the stone patio and swimming pool in the garden. He walked out to the low stone wall on the far end of the patio and saw that the property sloped downward in a series of terraced gardens with a winding path that led down to the shore of a large lake. He was immediately reminded of his first arrival at Hogwarts, as he gazed out across the large body of water. A girl in a skimpy bathing suit waved from a gleaming wood runabout, driven by a boy who appeared to be close to his age, as it zipped past. He hesitantly waved back.

* * *

Harry raked his fingers through his still damp hair as he waited patiently for Ginny's head to appear. Though international floo calls tended to take a bit longer to connect, he'd been waiting for over two minutes for her to respond. He'd already tried her office at _The Prophet,_ and was told that she had called out for the day. After she'd stormed out when he'd initially informed the family about the assignment, Harry had attempted to reason with Ginny and persuade her to join him in America. She'd steadfastly refused. Tensions did not improve when she learned that Albus had chosen to join him rather than return to Hogwarts, and she accused Harry of attempting to turn the children against her and take them away. They'd not spoken since he and Albus had departed, except a brief floo in which she only acknowledged that they'd arrived safely before ending the connection.

After another minute passed, Harry quickly scribbled a message, giving the new address and floo connection, and asking her to please call as soon as she could. He passed it through with a pair of tongs and got to his feet with a sigh. He went to the window and looked out over the sloping gardens towards the water below. He saw Albus waving to someone on the water.

"Maybe he'll finally make some friends," Harry thought to himself.

The doorbell rang, and he had to stop himself from apparating down to the foyer, instead taking the stairs at a trot.

"Hello!" Harry opened the door to a smiling couple who looked as if they'd stepped out of an upscale outdoor clothing catalogue. The man wore a madras plaid button-down shirt and khaki colored cargo shorts with boat shoes, while the woman wore a nautical striped crew-neck blouse and white shorts with shoes that matched her husbands. She held a plastic travel cake carrier.

"Erm, hello?" Harry smiled curiously.

"We just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood!" the woman smiled.

"Oh, right! Erm, come in!" Harry pulled the door wide and stepped back.

"Dad!" Albus called as he entered from the porch. He noticed the couple in the foyer. "Oh, erm..."

"This is my son, Albus," Harry gestured to him as he closed the door. "Albus this is—erm—"

"Tarquin!" said the man. "I'm Tarquin."

"And I'm Harlowe!" said the woman.

"We're the Cains!" the proclaimed together. Harry and Albus were slightly startled by their enthusiasm.

"Oh, uh. Forgive me. I'm Harry. Harry Potter." They shook hands all around.

"Oh, my word! I just _love_ your accents!" Harlowe Cain gushed as Harry led them into the great room off the kitchen.

"Oh, erm…thanks." Harry blushed. Albus rolled his eyes.

"Harlowe's a _huge_ Anglophile," explained Tarquin. "I think that's why she married me!" he chuckled.

"Doesn't Tarquin sound _positively_ English!?" she giggled.

"Actually, Tarquin was believed to be the seventh and last Etruscan king of Rome. He was expelled for his cruelty," Albus interjected. He took the container from her.

"Well, aren't you just the book of knowledge!" Harlowe grinned. "We brought muffins! I hope that's okay. They're blueberry. The ones with the white paper cake cups are sugar-free and gluten-free…just in case!"

Albus and Harry exchanged a look as the adults sat. He placed the dish on the island, and hung back.

"So, is your wife at home?" asked Harlowe.

"Honey!" Tarquin chided. "Maybe give them an opportunity to speak."

"Oops! You're right. I can be _such_ a chatty Cathy!"

"Ah, it's—it's fine. Really. Actually, my wife stayed behind in England. Her job…" Harry grimaced. "Our other two children are also there. Albus was the only one who was keen for a new adventure. The others will join us at holiday, I'm sure." He smiled with more confidence than he felt.

"Oh!" Harlowe cooed sympathetically. "That must be difficult!"

"Guess you're pretty happy to have the old man to yourself, though. Right tiger?" Tarquin suggested. "You two must be pretty close. Oldest? Youngest?"

"Middle, actually," Albus replied.

"James, our oldest, is seventeen. Lily, our girl is thirteen."

"So, I guess that makes you…about fifteen?" Tarquin guessed. "Same age as our Bella."

"Will you be going to Lakeside Prep?" asked Harlowe. "It is simply _the_ school to be in, if you've even a _hope_ of getting into one of the Ivies."

"But of course this young man is probably planning to return home for college—"

"University," said Albus.

"Right, Right. Oxford? Cambridge?"

"I haven't quite decided," said Albus. "May I be excused, Dad?"

"Sure. Go on, mate."

* * *

Albus dashed up the stairs to his bedroom and dug the vibrating compact out of his pocket. He closed the door and leaned against it, sliding to the floor as he opened the compact and let out a sigh when he saw Scorpius' smiling face.

"So, what's it like?" Scorpius asked. Albus heard a piano in the background.

"It's really pretty," Albus replied. "We've only been here about an hour or so. The house is big. It's spread out, so it's hard to tell whether it's actually bigger than Number Twelve. i think it might be. There's a swimming pool _and_ you won't believe—a cinema! Right inside our house!"

" _Really! That's brilliant!_ "

"I can't wait to find out how it all works! The only down side is that my bedroom doesn't have a fireplace." Albus frowned. "There's only four, and all of them, except the one in mum and dad's room are in common areas—no privacy."

"Good thing we have the mirrors then." Scorpius gave a half smile.

"Are you still in Italy?" Albus asked.

"No. We're back at Malfoy Manor. Father has taken me up on my challenge to learn more about muggle culture and life."

"Merlin! Really?"

"He discovered some old family diaries and letters in the library archives, and it appears that some earlier Malfoys weren't quite as intolerant of muggles as Grandfather might have led us to believe." Scorpius arched a brow. Albus gasped in surprise.

"What did he find?"

Scorpius looked over his shoulder before he held the mirror closer and lowered his voice.

"Well, it seems that Lucius Malfoy, the first, was in regular correspondence with the lovely young Queen Elizabeth!" he raised a brow. Albus gasped again. "Their letters are _quite_ the read! He also had numerous conclaves with the likes of Sir Francis Bacon and William Cecil."

"Wow!"

" _And_ despite his assertions that wizards and witches who consorted with muggles lacked intelligence and magical ability, Brutus Malfoy seemed to have no compunction about hosting performances by Jean-Baptiste Lully. He even had the organ installed in the drawing room at the Manor for a recital by Dieterich Buxtehude. _Septimus_ Malfoy engaged Felix Mendelssohn to play the very same organ for the wedding of his daughter, Mathilda.

"Septimus Malfoy, patron of muggle arts!" Albus laughed. Scorpius grinned.

Ever since he found that out, Father has been immersed in research. He's even asked me to take him to the London Library!" Scorpius laughed. "I'd never even been there myself! We stayed for _hours!_ It really is an interesting place. Did you know, that a muggle named…ermmm…oh, yes—Bram Stoker wrote an entire novel about a vampire named Dracula? The library even has several copies of the books he used for research. Apparently they found them about three years ago. Albus!" Scorpius lowered his voice to a whisper. "Some of them were written by wizards!"

"Merlin! How do you know?"

"I recognized some of the names, _and_ I've seen one or two of the books in the library here at the Manor." The music in the background stopped, and a moment later, Albus heard a loud crack. Scorpius looked away.

"Master Scorpius. Master Draco would like to see you," said a small squeaky voice, that Albus assumed was a house elf.

"Alright, Mimi." Scorpius turned back to the mirror. "I've got to go. We're meant to be going abroad again soon, but Father insists that it be a surprise. I'll let you know as soon as I get there."

"Alright then. See you soon. Albus kissed his fingers and touched them to Scorpius image. Scorpius did the same."

He sat for a moment smiling to himself before tucking the mirror compact into his pocket once more, and heading back downstairs in the hopes that the far too exuberant and somewhat nosy neighbors had departed. He found them in the foyer with his father.

* * *

"Now, every year we host a Labor Day barbecue with some of the neighbors. You simply _have to_ come!" Harlowe insisted. "It's nothing fancy. Tarquin tosses a few brats, some hot dogs and burgers on the grill. There's plenty of drinks, and it's a great opportunity to meet everyone!"

"A few of the more acceptable families from across the lake come by boat," added Tarquin. Harry raised a brow at his use of the term 'acceptable'. "The kids like to swim, or play tennis. Do you play tennis, Albus?" he asked, noticing the boy on the stairs. Albus shrugged noncommittally.

"And you can meet our Bella!" Harlowe suggested. "I'm _sure_ she'd love to introduce you to the other kids."

"Well, erm. Thanks for the invite," said Harry, opening the door.

"Oh, absolutely! We're just around the bend!" Tarquin smiled. "Two-two-three-seven."

"Right."

"Or pier nineteen, if you decide to come by boat," he added, following his wife out onto the porch.

"Got it. Thanks—and thanks for the muffins."

"Enjoy! Welcome to Greyswood Lake!" They called with a wave.

Harry closed the door and watched the couple climb into their Porsche Cayenne, before he turned to his son with arched brows.

"Merlin's balls!" he breathed.

"No kidding!" Albus agreed. "I hope all Americans aren't like that!"

"I doubt it," said Harry. They made their way back to the kitchen where they attacked the platter of muffins.

"Ugh!" Albus pulled a face and summoned a napkin, wiping his tongue. "What the hell?"

"Guess that must be the gluten free," replied Harry, choking down his own with a grimace.

"Good god!" Why?" Albus complained.

"I think these are the regular ones." Harry took a muffin from the other side.

"You really wanna risk it?" Albus asked.

"I will, if you will." Harry broke a muffin in half, handing one half to his son. "Together."

They simultaneously took tentative bites. Harry pulled an expression of delight, and Albus smiled.

"That's quite tasty!" he declared.

"I was just about to beg you not to make us go to their gathering."

Harry chuckled and went to the refrigerator, examining the contents.

"Fortunately we've magic on our side, if necessary. Now, how about a proper meal? Man doesn't live by bread alone." He levitated several ingredients from the refrigerator to the countertop. "See if you can't find a pan, yeah?"

"Erm, Dad, are you sure it's safe to use the appliances?" Albus asked, opening a cabinet. It was filled with glasses. He moved to one closer to the stove.

"It'll be fine. The electronics have all been charmed to protect against the magical energy that is expended by spell-casting or accidental magic."

"Oh." Albus found the cabinet containing the baking pans. "Which one?" he asked. Harry pointed to a medium-sized casserole.

"Grab one of those bowls too, yeah?" Harry said. "Would you like to help me cook?" he asked.

"Are you sure?" Albus asked, looking over the food with apprehension.

"Why not? I've been cooking for as long as I could reach the stovetop."

"Okay, well what do I do?"

"Start by cracking a couple of eggs into the bowl."

Harry showed Albus how to operate the stove and the oven, and the pair worked together to make a traditional toad-in-the-hole and joined one another at the table.

"Looks pretty good," Harry observed, serving their plates. "Tuck in."

"Only one way to find out," Albus shrugged, plunging his fork into the fluffy Yorkshire pudding. He hesitantly took a bite.

"Not bad, Al. Cooking may very well be your thing." Harry smiled. He lifted his glass in a toast. "To new experiences."

"Cheers." Albus lifted his glass.

They enjoyed their meal in companionable silence for a few minutes before Albus spoke up.

"Erm…Dad, c-can—may I ask you—"

"What is it, Al?" Harry asked. He set his silverware aside and gave his son his full attention.

"W-well, erm…Mum...she isn't going to come, is she?" he asked.

"No, son. Not right now."

"Dad…" Albus sighed. "I didn't mean to—"

"Oh, Al. It's not your fault—"

"N-no, Dad, that's not what I—I heard you and Mum that night." Albus took a breath and plunged ahead. "You said you saw her with another—with Gordon Horton. She's not ever coming. You guys are splitting up." He gave Harry a guarded look. Harry sighed and took a sip of his beer before he spoke.

"I don't know, Albus. I won't lie to you though. What you heard was true; probably even some of the things that your mother said about me too. I do tend to forget about the little things when the greater good is at stake. It's regrettable. I should have given more time and attention to your mother, and to you and your siblings. What I want most in the world is for all of you to have a better life than I ever had. I know that sounds cliché, but I want you to have things, and I want you to live in a world of peace. Instead I gave you an impossible legacy to live up to, and I apologize for that, son. As for your mum. That's something that he and I will have to work through on our own. Perhaps we can come to an understanding—perhaps not. Just know that no matter what happens, we both love you very much, yeah?"

"Alright." Albus nodded.

Harry studied the boy sitting across from him pushing the remains of his meal around with his fork. Suddenly, he saw another tense fifteen-year-old who felt all alone in the world, overwhelmed with pent up frustration, and feeling like no one would ever understand what he was going through.

"Albus."

"Yeah, Dad?" He looked up.

"I hope you know that you can talk to me about anything." He looked into the green eyes that mirrored his own.

"Sure, Dad." Albus gave an uncomfortable smile, and looked away. "This house is brilliant!"

"It's amazing isn't it? Did you see the cinema?"

"Yeah! Can we really watch movies there?"

"Well, it's designed for cinematic viewing of DVDs and television and the like."

"Oh. Well, it's still awesome!"

"It is." Harry chuckled. "So, erm…I suppose it's time to discuss your education. You can't sit around here all day, you know."

"I know." Albus replied flatly. "I…kind of don't really want to go to Ilvermorny."

"You don't?"

"It'll just be like Hogwarts all over again, just with American kids instead," Albus complained.

"Albus, you'll never be able to master your magic if you allow yourself to be intimidated," said Harry. "I hadn't given it much thought, but looking back, you remind me much of your godfather when we were your age."

"Professor Longbottom?"

"I'm sure you read about how Neville's parents were tortured to insanity by Bellatrix LeStrange and her husband. They thought that his mum and dad knew where to find your grandparents and me. The Longbottoms were talented and well-respected Aurors. His grandmother even gave him his father's wand to take to Hogwarts. Neville was nervous and often worried that he couldn't live up to his parents' greatness. It didn't help that Draco Malfoy and his gang made him the target of their maliciousness for more than a year."

"But Uncle Neville is a powerful wizard! He used to be an Auror!"

"He is now, yes. He was then too, but he didn't know it. He had to find it within him to stand up for what was right. When the Death Eaters took over the school, he and your mum rebelled against their authority with the other members of the D.A., and protected the younger students from the Carrows. I was never more impressed with him than the moment he stood up to Riddle himself, when everyone thought I was dead, and pulled the Sword of Gryffindor from the sorting hat. I don't know where he summoned that courage, but he did. You have to do the same for yourself, Al. I know you have it in you. I don't want you to be me. I want you to be Albus Severus Potter."

"I don't know who that is." Albus stared at the tabletop.

"That's for you to discover, son." Harry gave him a pointed look.

"Do you think I might discover it at a muggle school?" Albus asked. Harry was taken aback.

"Are you sure?"

"Well, I don't know. I did alright at Rotherfield, yeah?"

"That you did, Al, but what about your magical education?" Harry pointed out.

"Well—I mean—couldn't you teach me? Everyone says you're better than a dab hand at teaching defense, and—you _are_ Harry Potter after all." Albus sighed. "I just—can't we give it a try?"

* * *

 _It looks like Harry and Albus may be on the road to building a proper father-son relationship. What about Scorpius and Draco? Will Ginny ever decide to reconcile with Harry? Stay tuned to find out what happens when Al meets Bella... (Sorry about all of the updates for those of you who are following. I've noticed numerous spelling errors and a few that are messing up plot continuity, so I'm fixing them as I work on the next chapter. Stay tuned. Things are beginning to get a bit interesting)_


	8. Pleasure to Meet You

_Note: Sorry it took so long for me to update. First, there were login issues. Then a brief bout of writer's block. It's time to meet the rest of the Greyswood Elite!_

* * *

Scorpius retched, but held his stomach. Portkey travel had never much agreed with him. He much preferred to apparate side-along with his father, or go by floo. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment to regain his vestibular balance before looking around at the place where they had landed.

The room was large and featured high windows, which made up an entire wall, looking out over the gardens below, which sloped down to a large lake. The sun danced across the water where boats of all kinds moved across the surface.

"We'll need to furnish it," said Draco, turning about as he examined the space as well. "This flooring is absolutely gauche!" he snorted, indicating the wall-to-wall carpeting in the room.

"I think it's called carpet, Father. Muggles prefer it to stone or wood for its insulating properties, and supposed ease of cleaning."

"Mm. Well, it simply must go. I'm thinking a nice oak with a large Persian rug, yes?"

"Well, I—I suppose." Scorpius shrugged. "What exactly are we doing here, Father?" he asked.

"You wanted an immersive study experience. This is it!" Draco informed him. "We are going to live amongst the muggles. We will examine and participate in their customs and activities—I have secured employment already. You will attend a muggle educational institution—of course I will continue to provide your magical instruction here. I think I should like to pen a scholarly treatise on our experiences," Draco mused, as he moved slowly through the space, taking in the characteristics of each room.

"Erm…Father. You know _nothing_ about the muggle world," Scorpius pointed out. " _I_ only know what I've read in Muggle Studies, and what little experiences I've had with Albus. _How_ exactly are we supposed to pull this off without giving ourselves away as wizards, or appearing to be complete nimrods?"

"The answer is quite simple, my son." Draco mounted the circular staircase to the second floor.

"It is?" Scorpius gawked at his father.

"Magic!" Draco proclaimed. He swept up the stairs.

"Merlin's slippers!" Scorpius muttered, running up the staircase after Draco. "Father—"

"What better way to practice your Memory Charm? Perhaps you would like this suite," Draco suggested, leading him around the rotunda to a loft with three sets of double doors. He flung open the set of doors on the right. "It's not the same as your apartment at the manor, but it does have this rather charming turret that would make a lovely parlor. Draco gestured about the large room, indicating the round sitting area.

"Erm…okay, but—" Scorpius began. Draco cut him off again.

"Excellent! Now, then let's discuss furnishings!"

"Father!" Scorpius bellowed. Draco turned to him in surprise. "You're _not_ listening to me!"

"What is it, Scorpius?"

"Well…I mean…look at you." Scorpius conjured a full-length mirror and pointed to it. "If you're going to immerse yourself in this world, you have to go all in." Scorpius indicated their expensive robes, and Draco gazed upon his reflection with a nonplussed expression.

"I'm afraid I don't quite comprehend. You mean I must outfit myself as we did on our excursion to the library?"

"Not exactly. You wore a suit that day. From what I gather, most muggles only dress in such a way for business." Scorpius explained. "Still, changing our clothes is a good place to start." He transformed his own clothing into a pair of cotton cargo shorts and a tennis shirt, transfiguring his boots into a pair of trainers. "Simple." Draco raised a skeptical brow.

"I think not," he said.

"Fortunately, you're not fifteen," Scorpius retorted. He thought a minute, picturing the images he'd seen of muggle men his father's age, and waved his wand.

Scorpius gave Draco a pair of drab olive chinos and a simple white tee, layered with a light grey, V-neck cotton sweater. He transformed his father's fancy slippers into a pair of stylish suede Chelsea boots.

"And you don't have to cut your hair, but maybe pull it into a ponytail, like this." He produced an elastic band and tied back his father's hair. Draco stared at his reflection in astonishment.

"Merlin's wand!"

"You don't like it?"

"Wha—I…I-I—well, I look like… _Potter!_ " he exclaimed.

"Do you?" Scorpius gazed at his father's reflection in the mirror beside his own. "No, you don't—and besides, Mr. Potter is familiar with the muggle world. Who else would I get ideas from?"

"Fine!" Draco threw up his hands in concession. "I suppose it will do for now. I shall have to make a note to do further research on the subject. I suppose I shall have to locate a library. All muggle towns should have one, don't you think? I wonder if it's the same as in England." Draco speculated, speaking more to himself than to his son, as he drifted out of the room, waving his wand as he went. An accent table appeared in the center of the antechamber beyond Scorpius' room, atop it, a large vase filled with an elegant arrangement of flowers.

"The same as—wait—erm, Father?" Scorpius hurried after his father, following him into what appeared to be the master suite. Draco waved his wand again, conjuring furnishings for the sitting room: a stylish cabriole sofa with matching side chairs and tables, lamps, and a secretary appeared, arranging themselves with a useful flow about the space.

"Yes?" Draco continued into the bedroom.

"Where exactly are we?"

"Why, we're in America, of course!" Draco replied matter-of-factly.

" _What?"_ Scorpius stared at him in astonishment.

"Well, why not learn two cultures at once?" Draco shrugged, as a silk jacquard duvet settled onto a round bed with an arched, tufted headboard. "I've always wanted to visit America, but your grandfather considered American wizards too gauche and uncouth. When we visited the library, I read an article about this town. It's called Greyswood. The periodical listed it among America's best small cities to live. I was intrigued by the lake and the photo of the house. Have you decided how you wish to furnish your rooms yet?"

"I—erm—" Scorpius was dumbfounded. They were in America! He was in the same country as Albus! "I—I think I n-need a moment."

"Of course. Explore the house if you like. Don't go too far. We'll need to consider dinner plans soon!" Draco called as Scorpius wandered out of the room and down a back staircase.

He found himself in a vestibule just beyond the kitchen, and cautiously entered the large room, gazing in wonder at the gleaming appliances. He wondered how the stove worked, and where was the fire built. Scorpius hoped that his father had taken into account how their magic would work with the electrical appliances. He'd hate for them to blow up the house and attract unwanted attention from the muggles. Scorpius lightly ran his fingers over the granite countertops as he slowly moved about the space, eventually discovering a set of doors that led out to a small balcony and porch beyond.

He took the staircase from the porch down to the flagstone patio where a large swimming pool shimmered in the late afternoon sun above a lawn that sloped down to the water. A multi-tiered wooden stair led to the shoreline where a pier extended from the landing out over the water. The structure ended in a T-shape with multiple mooring points.

Scorpius made his way down to the water and sat down on the weathered wood deck. He fished in his pocket for his two-way mirror and opened it, letting out a sigh when he saw only the interior of Albus' compact. He snapped it shut and looked out over the water. A mahogany rowing shell, sculled by a girl who appeared to be his age, glided alongside the pier, and came to a stop.

"Hi," she said.

"Erm, hello." Scorpius replied, regarding her.

She wasn't what one might call beautiful, yet she wasn't unattractive. Her complexion was somewhat pallid for one who appeared to actively engage in outdoor pursuits, and the paleness of her skin tone seemed to be enhanced by her lank, black hair, which was tinted purple at the ends, and hung a bit wildly about her face. She reminded him of someone, but he couldn't quite place the resemblance.

"I like your boat," he said, examining it.

"Do you row?" she asked. Scorpius shrugged, shaking his head. He'd never seen a boat such as this before.

"No. It looks like fun," he said.

"It's not bad. I row crew at school. Just about everyone around here either sails or sculls. Are you an exchange student?" she asked, carding her hair with her hand.

"Oh, erm, no. We…erm…just arrived today." He pointed back towards the house. "I'm—my name is—I'm Scorpius."

"Scorpius, huh? That's different. I'm Lilac." She extended her hand.

"Pleasure." Scorpius took her hand. "Where do you—"

Before he could complete his question, a stylish motorboat zipped past, leaving a turbulent wake that rocked Lilac's boat. The vessel teetered dangerously, and Scorpius extended his legs, bracing against the hull and rowlock with both feet to prevent the fragile boat from capsizing or slamming into the pier. The larger boat made a wide circle before slowing and drawing alongside the next dock.

Lilac scowled at the girl driving the boat as she hopped out and tied up her vessel.

"This is a no-wake zone, Belladonna!" she admonished her.

"Funny, you don't look like the harbormaster," the girl replied with a disdainful shrug. Scorpius stared at her, mouth agape. "Isn't this private property?"

He'd never seen a creature such as this, and this girl was total curiosity. Her chest was barely covered with two bright blue triangles of fabric, and a pair of tight-fitting, very tiny short pants just covered her backside. She hopped down onto the beach and sauntered over to their pier.

"Who are you?" she asked. The way she eyed him made Scorpius feel as though she was planning to have him served on a platter. He scrambled to his feet. Lila scoffed.

"I'm-I'm Scorpius. I live here." He pointed up to the New England shingle-styled house at the top of the hill.

"OMG! _You're_ the English boy my mom told me about!" she wrinkled her brow. "I thought she said you had dark hair. Who knows, she was probably already two martinis down at that point. You just moved with your dad, right?"

"Erm…yeah?" Scorpius replied with a bemused look. How did this girl already know about him? They'd just arrived less than an hour ago. Was she a witch? No—she couldn't be. Maybe his father had somehow already met the neighbors. He blinked, realizing that she was speaking again.

"…come to our Labor Day barbecue tomorrow! I'll introduce you to everyone who is _worth_ knowing. You don't want to make the mistake of falling in with the wrong crowd. People will think you're totally lame." She looked around him and gave Lilac a pointed look. Scorpius gave the girl a curious look. Of course he wasn't lame. He was standing on his own two feet. "By the way, I'm Bella."

"Pleasure." He extended his hand. She took his, raising hers for him to kiss her fingertips. He did, with a courtly bow as he knew etiquette dictated.

"Really, princess?" Lilac huffed, rolling her eyes. Bella gave her an exasperated look.

"Shouldn't you be out in search of small children to chuck into your cauldron?"

"Cauldron?" Now Scorpius was truly confused. He thought these girls were muggles.

"You really should steer clear of girls like her, Scorpius. She's a total hag!"

"No she's not," he replied. "Hags are old, ugly and have tons of warts!"

"Oh, my god, seriously? You're not like one of those weird fantasy nerds are you?" Bella rolled her eyes. "I mean she's a witch!"

"Really?" his eyes lit up, and he looked at Lilac with an excited smile. "Wow! I never would have guessed!" Lilac laughed, clapping her hands. Bella rolled her eyes.

"Must be a British thing," she muttered. "Well, whatever. I've got to go. Mommy says we can go shopping for a new swimsuit for tomorrow. But seriously—you should stay away from the freak." Bella spun on her heel and hopped down to the beach, jogging back the way she'd come, eventually disappearing from their line of sight as she ascended the hill to her own house.

"Ha! That was priceless!" Lilac exclaimed. "You're pretty funny Scorpius. I like you, but seriously though—getting on the wrong side of Belladonna Cain is not the best idea. She's like Lakeshore Prep royalty. Her dad's the head of the board of regents."

"She can't be any worse than some of the prats I had to deal with at my old school." Scorpius sat down on the edge of the dock once more. "How did she know you're a witch?" He gasped. "Did you _tell_ her?" Lilac laughed again.

"You got jokes. She means I'm a freak—an outcast, a lame, not rich, and not a prep school zombie like the ones in her clique." She rolled her eyes.

"You don't look like a freak to me."

"Look, before you start hitting on me, you should know that I'm more of a girl kinda girl. Know what I mean?" she informed him. Scorpius looked at her in confusion. " _I like girls_ —well, I like guys too, but not as much—you're not like one of those church people who are totally weirded out by that are you?"

"No, why would I be?"

"Wow! Maybe I should move to the UK. Who knew they were so liberal? My parents are _total_ Puritans-especially my Mom. Well cool, but listen, I'm not out or anything like that, so you mind not telling anyone—especially Bella Bitch?"

"I won't tell." Scorpius smiled. "I guess you aren't invited to her do, yeah?"

"Actually, I am." She slid the seat back and forth to stretch her legs. "The school is getting a new maestro to teach music and direct the orchestra. The chamber ensemble is performing. I play the flute."

"That sounds lovely. I play the violin and piano myself." Scorpius smiled. "I look forward to hearing you perform."

"Cool. Well, maybe I'll see you there. Mind giving me a bit of a shove?" she asked. Scorpius gave the boat a gentle push, and Lilac dipped her sculls into the water when she was clear of the dock. "Later, Scorp!" she called. He waved.

* * *

"…with this win under its belt, Tutshill moves to number six in this season's standings. This is the highest ranking the Tornadoes have had since a successful run in the mid-nineties." Ginny leaned back in the chair at her desk in the library, as her self-writing quill dictated a draft of her latest article. A soft gong sounded, alerting her to the floo, and she glanced over towards the fireplace.

"Are you there, Ginny?" Hermione asked.

"Hi, 'Mione. Come on through." Ginny sat up and cleared her desk, before moving to the chesterfield beside the fireplace. Hermione stepped through, holding her official minister's robes over her arm.

"I'm beginning to think that you're avoiding us," said Hermione. "Why did you turn down dinner the other night? You were awfully cool the other day when the kids left for school. Is it about Harry going to the U.S.?"

"You know he _took Albus_ with him, yeah? He let him just jump off the train and tag along!" Ginny ranted. "I don't even know why I bother any more, Hermione. How could you and Kingsley even _think_ this was a good idea? He's never home as it is!"

"That's not true, Ginny," Hermione argued. "The reason he took the post as head of the DMLE was so that he could have more time with the family. From where I stand, you're the one who's always on the go."

"Hey, I am home _every_ night!" Ginny protested. "Just-sometimes late. You know how these matches can go."

"I'm not arguing with you Gin. It's a good opportunity for Harry, and a stepping stone to a prestigious posting with the International Confederation of Wizards. Besides, if you want to be with him, why don't you just go? Mr. Akingbade and President Picquery-Tomlinson arranged everything so that you wouldn't have to give up your career."

"That's not it!" Ginny insisted. "You know—never mind. I need to—" she sniffed. "Shit! _Goddammit!_ " she raced out into the hall and dashed down the back stairs. Hermione ran after her.

The kitchen was filled with smoke which billowed from the oven.

" _Evanesco!_ " Ginny cried as she opened the oven, vanishing the charred lump that had once been her dinner. Hermione flicked her wand to open the windows above the sink. "Brilliant! Just fucking brilliant!" Ginny fell into a chair, tossing her wand down onto the table.

"Hey, why don't we go out?" Hermione suggested. "It's witches' night at the Sleeping Mermaid in Bristol."

"I dunno." Ginny hedged.

"Aw, come on! The Cauldron Boys are going to be there!" She wiggled her brows.

"The all-wizard exotic revue?" Ginny gasped. "You can't be seen at an event like that! You're the Minister of Magic!"

"So?"

"Rita Skeeter will be wetting her knickers for an exclusive on that!"

"Rita Skeeter has already run afoul of Ministry security once again, and will be enjoying the accommodations in the catacombs for the entire weekend—no wand, no quick-quotes quill!" Hermione grinned maliciously. "Come _on,_ Ginny! We _deserve_ a girls' night out!" Hermione begged.

"Okay! Okay! But you're not going anywhere with me, dressed like a Quidditch mum! Let's get transfigured into something amazing!" They ran upstairs to dress.

An hour later, both witches were well into a second bottle of giggle water as a wizard wearing only a sagara hovered above their table, as he performed a seductive aerial dance. Hermione jingled a pouch of gold coins towards him as witches around the room, hooted and cat-called the dancers. Ginny sat semi-sprawled across the table below the dancer, a goblet in one hand, which sloshed as she animatedly talked to her sister-in-law.

"The pr-r-r-o-o-blem-m-m is that he doesn't even seem to ca-a-a-ar-r-re!" she drawled, slurring her words between giggles.

"Who?" Hermione asked, distractedly as she cupped the dancer's derriere. "His bum-m-m is almost _ex-actly_ like Ronnie's!" she declared.

" _Ronnie?_ You call him _Ronnie?_ And don't _ever_ talk about my brother's arse in public… _ever_ again. That's just—that's just… _ugh!_ "

"Why don't you think he care-hic-car-r-res?"

"I don't know if Ronald cares what you call hi-hic-him. Hee-hee!" Ginny giggled.

"Not _Ron—Har-hic-Har-ry!_ You said—ha-ha-ha—he doesn't care. Hic!"

"Because he _doesn't!_ I could _shag_ Gordon Horton in the middle of the drawing room, and he wouldn't even n-n-notice!" She turned up her goblet and emptied it.

"Why would you shag Gordon Horton in your drawing—" Hermione gasped, and stared at Ginny in shock. "Did you _cheat_ on Harry?"

"I— _no—_ well…" Ginny instantly realized that she'd said too much. Hermione grabbed Ginny's hand and they immediately disapparated.

" _OWWW!_ " Ginny shrieked, sprawling on the floor as they landed in the drawing room. " _Fucking hell!_ " Blood ran down her left leg and a sizeable chunk of her thigh was missing. "Oh, _fuck!_ I've been _splinched!_ " she screamed.

"Calm down! Calm down! Have you got any dittany?" Hermione pressed her hand to Ginny's leg, to stem the flow of bleeding.

"Second f-floor l-lav—"

" _Accio dittany!_ " a second later, a phial containing essence of dittany zoomed into Hermione's hand.

She unstoppered it and poured the liquid over the wound. A greenish vapor wafted from Ginny's flesh, and when it dissipated, her leg only appeared to have a minor indentation where the injury had once been. Ginny curled onto her side with a drunken whimper before Hermione helped her up onto the sofa and summoned a blanket to cover her. She cleaned her hands with a quick _Tergeo_ spell and quickly mixed a sobriety potion for them both. Ginny reluctantly took the cup with trembling hands and drank the warm liquid.

"Ugh!" she closed her eyes as the potion took effect.

"Did I hear you correctly?" Hermione asked, settling into a chair across from her. "You slept with Gordon Horton?"

"Well…" Ginny avoided her eyes. "What difference does it make? You know what Harry told me?"

"He _knows?"_ Hermione leaned forward, gaping at her in disbelief.

"Apparently, he saw us together at James' quidditch match back in August. Gordon sat in the press box with me." Ginny confessed, her voice was quiet and laced with regret.

"Merlin's balls, Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed. "What if Rita Skeeter had been there?"

"I _know!_ I know! But maybe it would have served him right!"

"You're joking!"

"Am I?" Ginny sat up. "Do you know, I came home one night, apparently _reeking_ of Gordy's cologne, and Harry just said 'maybe you want to wash up, yeah?' He didn't even question me or anything! He accepted my story about having dinner with Gwenog, and suggested that her perfume was too strong!"

"Are you serious?" Hermione sank back in her chair.

"And that's not all! We had a rather heated row about the whole America assignment, and that's when he told me he'd seen us together. Do you know what he said? He just shrugged and said 'If you don't want to go to America, fine.' _Fine!_ He doesn't _care,_ 'Mione! He was more concerned that I was inhospitable to _Draco_ _Malfoy_ and his _delinquent_ son!"

"What are you talking about?" Hermione was confused. What did Ginny's infidelity have to do with Malfoy?

"I come home early, hoping to make some amends for spending so much time away—I really wanted to make this work, Hermione. I _did!_ I thought maybe I just needed to try harder. Anyway, I get here and I hear all this kerfuffle upstairs. I get up to Al's room and there's Draco and Scorpius and Harry and Albus all carrying on! Apparently, Scorpius ran away after his hearing and Albus _hid_ him in his room! Harry accused me of being unreasonable because I don't want my son consorting with some rich ne'er do well—especially a Malfoy!"

"Ginny…" Hermione sighed, rubbing her eyes. "As much as you don't want to admit it, Albus and Scorpius Malfoy are friends. They are ridiculously close, I know, but both of them are dealing with legacies that are not of their making, and they understand one another because of it. Trying to tear them apart is only going to push them closer together, and cause Albus to rebel against your authority."

"So you're taking his side?" Ginny accused, getting to her feet. She went to the credenza and poured herself a glass of brandy. "I might have figured as much. Whatever Harry does…wherever Harry goes, you and Ron go traipsing off behind him. It's like he's your fucking Svengali!"

"Oh, come on, Ginny! Now you're just being dramatic!" Hermione gave her an exasperated look.

"He _left me_ , Hermione! He keeps leaving me! For Merlin's sake! Don't act like you weren't there!" She angrily set the snifter down, upsetting it in the process. "Who does that to somebody they love?" Ginny sat down heavily on the couch, tears streaming down her face. Hermione moved to sit beside her, wrapping an arm about her shoulder.

"So, what are you going to do?" she asked.

"I don't know." Ginny murmured. "I don't know."

* * *

Albus wiped his brow, setting the tray of young herb plants onto the long wooden counter.

"So, why are you working in a nursery?" he asked Harry.

"It's part of my assignment, son. The muggles are to believe that I run a small-scale organic nursery. It was the easiest career to place me in where I can still quietly employ magic."

"Okaay." Albus shrugged.

"A Herbology N.E.W.T. is required for acceptance into Auror training, and Uncle Neville worked tirelessly with me to improve my expertise in the subject when we first started out. So, at least twice a week, you'll work in the shop with me—"

"What?" Albus exclaimed.

"As part of your Herbology lessons. I won't allow you to neglect your magical education. _You said,_ that I would teach you." Harry reminded him. "Now, first lesson—no magical plants allowed in the front of house." Harry pointed to the plain stone wall at the rear of the greenhouse. "Make sure you never let anyone see you going into our exiting the magical conservatory. We don't want anyone getting hold of the Chinese chomping cabbage."

"You made it unplottable?" Albus stared at the blank wall.

"Yes _._ It's just like at home. It will appear to you, when you wish to enter. You've just got to remember, it' the same as when you cast a spell; do it with confidence. You've got to _mean it._ "

"Mean it."

"Exactly! C'mon. It's getting late, and I've a feeling that if we don't show up at the Cain's fête, they'll send out a search party!" he chuckled. Albus took his wrist and they apparated home to change before making their way up the street to the rustic-styled house two doors up Shoreline Road. There were valets in the driveway, parking cars, and classical music could be heard floating from the open doors as they approached.

A small ensemble of teens performed a Nocturne by Franz Doppler while a small band of guests listened intently.

"Oh, Harry, right?" Harlowe Cain emerged from the crowd as the music came to an end, the crowd clapping politely. She enveloped Harry in a tight hug, careful not to spill her cocktail on his shirt. "I'm so glad you made it!" she gushed. "Come on, let me show you around!"

Albus awkwardly followed as she dragged Harry through the throng and out to a stone patio where Tarquin stood beside a large grill, gesturing with a pair of tongs as he held forth to a group of men gathered around him.

"Harry!" he exclaimed as they approached. "Come on over! Meet Skip Atkinson, Headmaster of Lakeshore Prep. This is Mike Connors. He's the president of the Greyswood Lake Yacht and Rowing Club. Fellas, this is Harry Potter and his son, Albert—"

" _Albus—_ it's Albus," Harry corrected. "How do you do?" They shook hands all around.

"Right. Right. You should meet Bella— _Bella!_ " he called over the patio railing. "She's down by the pool with the other kids. Bella! Come and meet the Potters! You know what? Just go on down. We've told her all about you. The stairs are just over there." Tarquin gave Albus a nudge, and he gave his father a wary look over his shoulder as he left.

Harry gave Albus an encouraging smile before Tarquin clapped him on the shoulder, pulling him back into the conversation.

"So, Harry, is it? What brings you to Greyswood?" asked a very tan gentleman in golf pants and a Callaway sun visor.

"Harry this is Myron Goodwater. He's the president of the Greyswood Lake homeowners association," said Tarquin.

"Oh, erm, pleasure. I run an organic nursery. My specialty is shade tolerant landscape plants, succulents small-scale edibles—onions, kale, olives and the like; also a wide variety of herbs and medicinals."

" _Medicinals?_ I hope you don't mean marijuana!" chuckled the third man in the group. He was tall, with silver hair and wore a simpering expression.

"Oh, ho!" Tarquin chortled. The others joined in.

"Let's not upset the reverend!" Myron laughed.

"Meet Frank Mathers. He's the pastor of Second Salem Church."

"Ah, I see. No, we don't sell marijuana. Although new studies have shown that cannabidiol, a naturally occurring cannabinoid constituent of cannabis, does have numerous health benefits—that's the extract from the plant without the THC, which is the psychoactive element in cannabis." Harry cleared his throat.

"You seem to be very well versed on the subject, Mr. Potter." The older gentleman gave him an appraising look that reminded Harry of the first time he'd met Severus Snape.

"Well, it _is_ what I do." He chuckled lightly.

"Ah, don't let him intimidate you, my friend. Frank's a harmless old softie!" Tarquin assured him, grinning broadly. He paused to remove the meat from the grill. "Let me get you a drink!"

* * *

Albus stepped down onto the lower patio, which was crowded with teenagers, several of whom were splashing about in the large pool. Modern music played loudly from speakers that he could not see, and small groups gathered around loungers or sat with their feet dangling into the pool. Once again, Albus felt awkward and out of place. He wandered towards a table laden with food and two large jars with spigots filled with punch and water.

"Who are you?" drawled a voice behind him. Albus turned to see three girls in skimpy bathing suits sitting together on a nearby chaise longue. The girl in the center stood up, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Oh, erm. I'm Albus—Albus Potter. We just moved in a few days ago. The erm…the Cains invited me— _us_."

"(Gasp) He's British!" one of the other girls giggled.

"He is totes adorable!" her friend added, leaping to her feet. "Hi! I'm Sophie." She stretched out her hand, but before Albus could take it, the first girl stepped in front of her.

" _I'm_ Bella Cain. This is Sophie Baxter and that's Lizzie Winthrop." Albus shook hands with all of them.

"Come join us, Albus!" Sophie tugged his arm, dragging him back to the lounger they'd just abandoned. "Are you going to attend Lakeshore Prep?"

"I dunno, actually. My dad hasn't said." He shrugged uncomfortably. Albus was unused to this sort of attention.

"I'll bet you will. Everyone on the Lake goes to Prep," Lizzie informed him.

"And then there are _some_ who just got lucky." Sophie snickered.

"God! People are going to think I've invited her!" Bella grumbled.

"Oh, just be nice, Bella. Even the _help_ has to eat!"

Albus looked over his shoulder to see who they were talking about. He saw a girl with dark hair, highlighted purple on the ends, standing at the table with what looked like a flute case tucked under her arm. Unlike most of the other kids, who were clad in swimwear, or casual summer attire, she wore a royal blue polo-style shirt with a gold crest and a pleated skirt in Fraser Clan yellow tartan. She filled a cup with lemonade and looked around. Her expression revealed her obvious discomfort. She looked in their direction and Albus gave her a smile. She returned it with a curious gaze.

"Oh my god!" the girls laughed. "She is _not_ looking over here!"

"So, Albus, do you have a girlfriend back in the UK?" asked Lizzie.

"Wha—erm, n-no." He reluctantly tore his attention away from the girl.

"What? No way!" the girls pooh-poohed.

"You are _way_ too cute to be single!" Bella insisted. "I think he's got a girlfriend, but he just doesn't want to say. I mean—she's a whole ocean away! Who's gonna find out?" She winked at him, licking her lips.

"Uh, excuse me! What about the hottie you met yesterday with the wicked witch of the lake?" Lizzie gave Bella a look, gesturing over her shoulder at the other girl. Albus looked back, but she was gone.

"Well, he's not here, is he?" Bella rebutted. "A girl has to keep her options open."

"Right," Sophie snorted. "That's why you've been ignoring Tucker _all_ evening."

They glanced across the pool to a group of boys in Bermuda shorts who seemed to have the attention of most of the girls present. A tall, muscular red-haired boy paused in his conversation and looked their way. Bella rolled her eyes.

"We're on a timeout. He still hasn't apologized for not bringing me as his plus-one to Grace Mathers' party." She scowled.

"Bella! Come up here, please!" her mother called over the rail. "Bring the new boy!"

"Excuse me, gentlemen." A handsome woman with perfectly coiffed blonde hair, wearing a fluttering sundress stepped up to them. "They're here."

"Oh, that's great! Where are they?" asked Skip, craning his neck to look around.

"Harlowe, come on, shug—and oh, good! Here's Bella and Al."

"Erm. Albus. It's—" Albus tried to interject, but the men weren't listening. Harry gave him a sympathetic smile and a shrug as they followed the group, wondering who this special guest was.

"Everyone, may I have your attention, please?" Tarquin tapped the side of his wine glass with the signet ring that he wore. "As head of the Lakeshore Preparatory Academy Board of Regents. It gives me great pleasure to introduce to you our newest faculty member. He comes highly recommended from the Hogsmeade School in Scotland."

" _Hogsmeade?_ " Albus and Harry exchanged a look. Harry led him to the edge of the gathered crowd.

"He is here to serve as our new orchestra director and head of the music department, and we are happy to have his son enrolling with us as well. Come on over, gentlemen! I give you Maestro Draco Malfoy!"

Harry and Albus wore identical expressions of astonishment as Draco and Scorpius emerged from the crowd to stand next to Tarquin and Skip.

* * *

 _Well, surprise, surprise! Albus and Scorpius have already each made an impression on Bella. How will all of the wizards react to seeing one another in the same place? Does it seem like Lilac is hiding a secret?_


	9. Chance'd Be a Fine Thing

"You must be joking!" Harry murmured.

"Scorpius!" Albus exclaimed.

"Albus?" Scorpius stared in disbelief. Draco gave a start, and followed his son's gaze.

"Harry Potter? What are you doing here?"

"You two know each other?" Tarquin looked on with interest as Draco and Harry cautiously stepped towards one another.

"I might have asked you the same, except—" Harry gestured.

"Why yes. Yes we do! Good to see you my friend!" Draco exclaimed, clapping Harry on the back as he pumped his hand. "Harry and I have known one another for years! We attended the Hogsmeade School together."

"That's right. Different houses however." Harry nodded, playing along.

"What the hell?" Scorpius murmured.

"Who are they, and what have they done with our fathers?" Albus muttered.

"Wow! Fancy that!" remarked Skip. "I'll bet the two of you have some wild stories to share!"

"You've no idea!" muttered Harry.

"Well, gentlemen! Make yourselves at home! Get to know everyone—oh! Harry—Draco—you must not have known you're neighbors!" He shoved a beer into each of their hands.

"What?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Yeah! Oh, yeah! Potter you're at ah…twenty-two thirty-three, right?" Harry nodded. "Yeah, and Draco, you're right between us at twenty-two thirty-five! Whaddya know?"

"Right. What do you know?" Draco mumbled, taking a long gulp of his beer.

"I'm guessing your boys also attended dear old dad's alma mater?" Skip pointed to Scorpius and Albus who were quickly making their way back towards the rear of the house.

"Hm? Oh, yes!" Harry nodded, quickly.

"Thought so. Tradition is very important these days! Looks like they're pretty close. Like father, like son, eh? Hey, the night is young! Everyone, there's plenty of food and drinks! Enjoy! Listen, Skipper, I want you to have a word with Gary Chang about the library fund. I think together we can convince him to increase his annual donation…"

Tarquin drifted away from them, steering Skip away, and leaving Harry and Draco standing alone.

"Hogsmeade School?" Harry whispered.

"Well it does sound a shade more muggle than _Hogwarts,_ yes?" Draco raised a brow. "What are _you_ doing here, Potter?"

Before he could answer, they were accosted by numerous guests introducing themselves.

"Draco, may I call you Draco? I'm Lisbeth Massey, head of the Lakeshore Orchestra Parents. I'm so glad you accepted the offer! We were just _devastated_ when Maestro Pichler decided to leave us so suddenly—and right after the start of term! But naturally, _who_ could turn down an offer to be an instructor at Juillard? Have Skip and Tarquin told you about our season? …"

* * *

"Oh, Harry! I'd love to hear more about your shop. Now, two years ago when we visited the UK, we toured the Chelsea Physic Garden. Is that where you get your inspiration?..."

* * *

"I'm Peggy O'Brien. My son, Matthew plays cello. Last year he was second chair. Personally, I think it's because the girl in first was the daughter of a large alumni benefactor. Of course, she's graduated now, so I assume you'll be auditioning for new principals?..."

* * *

"I'm Melissa Parris. That's my husband Thom." She pointed. "He's the associate pastor of the Second Salem Church. We'd love to get together with you and talk to you about our ministry. Are you all looking for a church home? You're not Catholic are you?..."

* * *

"So, like…you guys know each other? Now you're living next door. How weird is that? Did you live next door in England?" Bella slipped her arm through Albus'. Scorpius raised a brow. Albus blushed with discomfort and rolled his eyes.

"Erm, no. I'm from London, and Scorpius lived in Wiltshire."

"Yeah, but we were roommates at school," Scorpius added.

"Fuckin' hell! Boarding school? Was it like one of those like… _all-guy_ schools? I heard like everyone there is a homo." They were joined by the red-haired boy from earlier in the evening that Sophie had called Tucker.

"Oh, no. No. Hogw—I mean the Hogsmeade School is co-ed," Albus quickly informed them.

"Oh, hell yeah!" exclaimed another boy, approaching the group and draping an arm about Lizzie's shoulder. "Private school chicks are _hot!_ Right, babe?" He gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

"Ugh! You're so _gross_ , Hunter!" Lizzie wiped her face, elbowing him in the ribs. He cackled, but didn't move away.

"Hey, a bunch of us are hooking up at Tucker's boathouse later. You guys should come," said Sophie.

"I don't know if my father will let me," said Scorpius. "We just arrived yesterday."

"We've still got a great deal of unpacking to do at our house." Albus shrugged, making a face.

"Just sneak out," suggested Hunter. "We all do it. You got a boat?" Albus and Scorpius shook their heads in the negative. "That sucks! Well, look. It's not far. You can walk up the beach. We're pier twenty-five. Up that way." He pointed over his shoulder. "Just be careful on the Lathrop's dock. They've got motion detectors."

"Good to know," said Albus.

The new teens endured several more minutes of conversation with the others, before slipping away from the crowd.

"Merlin's beard! They're so banal!" Scorpius groused, as he and Albus strolled down the stone steps towards the beach.

"At least they seem to like us," Albus pointed out.

"Yeah. I don't trust that Bella, though. She seems like a bitch."

"No kidding! She reminds me of Sofia Zabini."

"God! I'm so glad I don't have to see the likes of _her_ anymore!"

"Yeah." They paused on the last step. Albus reached for Scorpius' hand. Scorpius moved closer to him. They heard a splash and leapt apart.

"Shit!" someone cursed. There was another splash, this one much quieter, followed by quiet mumbling.

"Hello?" Albus said. They cautiously stepped onto the dock and saw a figure sitting at the end of pier in the moonlight. She turned around.

"Lilac?" Scorpius asked.

"Scorp?"

" _Scorp?_ " Albus repeated, his tone laced with amusement.

"Shut up!" Scorpius hissed. "Lilac, this is Albus. He's a friend of mine from England."

"How do you do?" Albus extended his hand. He recognized the purple-haired girl from earlier in the evening. "I saw you earlier. You were holding a flute?"

"How observant. So, you managed to slip away from your adoring fans, I see."

"Is that what they were?" Albus smirked. "I thought they were sirens preparing to lure us to the depths of the lake for the grindylows to devour us!" Scorpius gawked at Albus.

"What did you say?" Lilac looked at him suspiciously.

"Joke!" he laughed. Scorpius joined in.

"It's an old school legend about demons in the lake on our campus," Scorpius lied. "They used to tease the First Years, warning them not to get thrown in the water."

"Oh, huh." Lilac gave a half grin. "So your dad is the new music department head?"

"Yeah. Oh, you're in the orchestra, right? I guess you'll meet him this week then."

"Guess so." She shrugged.

"Do you live around here?" Albus asked.

"Me? Heh, no," Lilac emphatically replied. "I'm a townie girl."

"You don't look like a townie to me." Albus looked at her curiously. She scoffed.

"Yeah? So what's a townie look like?"

"You know. Tacky pastel track jacket with 'princess' spelled out on the front, poorly bleached hair and at least three piercings in one or both ears." Albus pulled an expression of disdain. Lilac laughed. "No class, no job, no goals, no future."

"Oh, my god! Is that what a townie is where you come from? Here, it basically means anyone who doesn't live on the lake, doesn't have a trust fund, and doesn't go to Lakeshore."

"But you go to Lakshore," Scorpius reminded her.

"Yeah, but I'm on scholarship. We attend church with the Cains and the Atkinsons. Personally, I was perfectly happy to go to Greyswood High. It's not that bad actually—not like in KC, or some other places."

"KC?" Albus and Scorpius looked at her in confusion.

"Kansas City."

"Ohh."

"So I guess you're not going to the do at Tucker's boathouse then?" asked Scorpius.

"Ugh! No way! I'm just waiting on my dad to get here to pick me up. That's probably him right there." She pointed to a light on the water that was drawing closer. They realized that it was a motor boat.

"Does everybody here have a boat?" asked Scorpius.

"Pretty much. My dad is a rescue worker with the water safety patrol," she said. The boat slowed a short distance away and slowly approached the pier; the captain tossed a line out and Lilac caught it.

"Ready, princess?"

"Yeah. Dad, this is Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy. They just moved here from England. Scorpius' dad is the new music teacher at school."

"I see. Gentlemen." He nodded, resting one booted foot against the side of the boat and reaching for his daughter's hand to help her aboard. Lilac took his hand and hopped into the boat. Lilac's father looked much like she did. He was a thin man with a rather prominent nose and dark hair with long bangs that hung into his face, which appeared dull and weathered.

"This is my dad, Eric Snape."

"I'm sorry, _what?"_ Albus started.

"Did you say, _Snape?_ " Scorpius asked.

"Yes, why?" Though his voice was soft, his eyes were keen and penetrating, even in the dim light of the boat.

"N-no reason," Albus stammered. "Just a familiar name."

"Yes, we wouldn't have guessed anyone in America to have such a unique nomenclature." Scorpius smiled disarmingly. "It was a pleasure to meet you sir."

"Yeah." Albus nodded.

"Bye guys. Guess I'll see you tomorrow, or sometime this week." Lilac lifted the line away from the pier with a boat hook, and pushed away. Her father restarted the engine, and slowly reversed from the dock.

* * *

Harry opened the refrigerator and retrieved two bottles of beer, offering one to Draco.

"I don't happen to have anything stronger at the moment." Draco accepted the bottle, vanishing the cap. "Now, explain to me again how you ended up here?" Harry leaned against the island and took a drink.

"Scorpius wanted to learn more about the muggle world. With all that's happened of late, I decided to take him up on the idea. Both of us certainly need a change of scenery, and I needed to put some distance between me and Lucius."

"So you decided to become a music teacher in America? Really?"

"Music is the one muggle thing that I happen to do well." He shrugged. "Besides, how was I to know I'd end up living right next door to _you?_ "

"If Scorpius wanted to learn about the muggle world, there's plenty of books out there he could have read," Harry pointed out. They moved into the great room and sat down at opposite ends of the sofa.

"Well, yes, but I don't believe that would have satisfied Scorpius. Isn't that part of how he managed to get himself into trouble? After we left your house that evening, Scorpius and I had a serious discourse over dinner. He's decided that if he cannot continue his education at Hogwarts, he wanted a much more transformative learning experience. He challenged me to learn more as well."

"Wow, Draco. I'm impressed, but are you sure you're up to it? You've never lived in the muggle world. Do you even know how to operate a computer or a stove? Do you know how to cook?"

"Is it really that difficult?" Draco scoffed. Harry gave him an exasperated look. "Okay! I admit, I have a rather steep learning curve." He shrugged. Harry sighed, and turned up his beer bottle, swallowing the last dregs of lager.

"Tell you what. _I'll_ try to help you as much as I can. It could spell disaster for both of us, if you're found out."

"Both of us?"

"Listen, you mustn't tell anyone why I'm here," Harry said, lowering his voice. He moved closer to Draco. "MACUSA and the ICW are worried about an anti-witchcraft movement that's gaining momentum here in the U.S. You remember reading about Grindelwald's capture in the twenties?"

"When he unleashed an obscurus in New York City? Newton Scamander helped to apprehend him."

"Right. Well, there was a movement then, called the New Salem Philanthropic Society, which was working to expose and eliminate wizardkind in America. They're descendants of the escaped Scourers from the seventeenth century."

"What are Scourers?"

"Vigilante wizards who started out as law enforcement before the formation of MACUSA. Eventually they even trafficked in their own kind during the witch hunts here!"

"Merlin!"

"Anyway, some of them escaped justice by integrating into the muggle world, and intermarrying, to rid themselves of magical offspring. They adopted puritanical beliefs and a deep hatred for the world they left behind, even going so far as to indoctrinate their descendants with the truth about the existence of magic, teaching that we should all be exterminated."

"So this New Salem movement is what—some sort of grotesque muggle version of the Death Eaters?"

"If they manage to build up their political base, they could very well be. That's why I'm here. There's a contingent of highly specialized Aurors in strategic places around the country, who are monitoring their activity. A descendant of one of the founders of NSPS has been elected to the muggle Congress, and MACUSA is worried that he'll have a platform to spread his message. If they manage to mobilize the Scourers again, he may get them legitimized by the government, and America could be facing witch hunts again."

"Merlin's wand! I had no idea!"

"You have to keep this to yourself, Draco. Even Albus doesn't even know."

Draco was startled by a high pitched ringing sound, and Harry reached into his pocket, retrieving what looked to him to be a large wafer. He touched it, and held it to his ear.

"Hermione, hi! Listen, it's a bit late…I know. I closed the floo because the neighbors here like to drop in unannounced…is something wrong?...Well, I should have some time tomorrow—erm today—around three o'clock your time? …brilliant! Tell Ron I said 'hi'." He touched the wafer again and turned his attention back to Draco, who stared at him with a perplexed expression. "It's a mobile phone. You really should get one. They'll be suspicious if you don't have one."

"Mobile phone, right. I suppose I should be relieved that we happened to have come across one another. Scorpius did express some concern that I'm terribly out of my depth. He even had to help me conjure an appropriate outfit." He chuckled self-consciously.

"Well, you look nice—very nice," Harry remarked. Draco blushed, clearing his throat.

"I erm…I should go. I've got an early morning. It will be my first day at the school, and I've got to get Scorpius ready. Will Albus be attending Lakeshore?"

"Looks that way. He didn't want to go to Ilvermorny, and the neighbors all seem to insist that it's the best school."

"So I heard—over and over again!" Draco rolled his eyes. Harry laughed. "Anyhow…" He stood.

"I'll walk you to the door." Harry stood. A moment later, they stood in the foyer, both wizards with their hands shoved into their pockets.

"This is awkward," Draco curled his lips into a half smile. "I never would have thought—"

"Nor would I," Harry nodded.

"Listen—Hey, why don't—" They both spoke at the same time.

"I'm sorry. You go ahead," said Harry.

"No, no, no. It's nothing. You were saying?"

"Well, just—I was going to suggest that you and Scorpius join me and Albus for breakfast. Then I could drive us all to the school afterwards."

"Oh, erm. Yes. Yes, I think the boys would certainly enjoy that. Say half-six? Is that too early?"

"That sounds fine. See you?" Harry opened the door and extended his hand. When Draco took it, he felt a tingle of energy move up his arm. Harry looked at Draco. The other wizard held his gaze a moment before giving him a slight smile and departing.

* * *

"Well, at least there's no tie," remarked Albus of their school uniforms, when he and Scorpius sat down to breakfast.

"Tuck in!" Harry commanded. Albus eagerly plunged his fork into his dish, while Scorpius and Draco stared at their plates. "Something wrong?"

"What exactly is this?" Draco asked.

"You've never had a fry-up?" Harry asked.

"Heavens no! Typically, breakfast at the Manor is a rather light meal. A petit dejeuner with a baguette, a choice of jams, honey and butter, and a hot beverage: coffee or tea."

"Minted people!" Harry muttered. "Well, we have sausage and bacon, beans, tomatoes—that cuts some of the fattiness, fried bread, two eggs—we eat our over easy, black pudding, kidneys, kippers and potatoes of course. We had to bring the sausages and pudding over with us. Fortunately, Greyswood has a butcher who sells kidneys." Harry cut a piece of sausage and took a bite.

Scorpius tentatively tasted the beans.

"It isn't bad, Father. I do like sausages. Didn't they serve them at Hogwarts when you were a boy?" he asked.

"They did. I wasn't much fond of them. I preferred tea and toast most mornings." Draco tasted the bread. "It's a bit greasy, but rather palatable, I suppose."

Harry offered him a cup of coffee, and they finished the meal with pleasant conversation, Draco and Scorpius peppering Harry and Albus with questions about cooking. Finally, everyone gathered their belongings, and Harry flicked his wand, sending the dirty dishes to the dishwasher.

"Your magic doesn't interfere with the e—lectronics?" Draco asked.

"There's a charm for that," Harry replied. "I can stop over and help you with that, if you like."

"That'd be great!" Scorpius exclaimed as they piled into Harry's SUV. "I burned out all of the bulbs in my bedchamber this morning, as I dressed!"

Several minutes later, they arrived at Lakeshore Preparatory Academy, a sprawling complex on the eastern shore of Greyswood Lake. The Tudor Revival style building, featured brick, sandstone, wood timbers and a roof of clay shingle tile. Scorpius was immediately reminded of Malfoy Manor, as he gazed upon the campus grounds, dotted with large shade trees, a gurgling fountain and rambling lawns.

"Ah, welcome Mr. Malfoy! And Mr. Potter, so glad you chose Lakeshore!" Skip Atkinson greeted them when they entered. "He led them to an office just off the main hall and introduced them to the Dean of Men, Mr. Cullen. "Let's see." He gestured for them to take a seat. "I'll need birth certificates, social security—or a…ah, what is it called?"

"It's a national insurance number," Harry supplied as he handed over the requested documents. The dean took them and turned to his computer, flipping through the paperwork as he entered information into a database.

Harry noticed a look of consternation on Draco's face, and surreptitiously flicked his wand.

" _Look in your attaché_."

Draco's expression morphed into one of amazement. He opened the case and saw a folder that he did not recognize. He opened it to see a set of papers that looked similar to the ones Harry had passed to the dean. He gave Harry a grateful smile and handed him the paperwork when he finished with Albus'.

"Now then," he said once he'd entered the boys' vital information and recommended core classes into the computer. "Tenth grade students are also required to take a foreign language. At Lakeshore, we offer French, Spanish, Japanese, German and Latin."

"Latin," both boys said together.

"My!" Mr. Cullen exclaimed. "We typically don't see such enthusiasm for this subject. I think you'll enjoy it, however. The class is small, and Mr. Horowitz is well liked by his pupils. Now for Physical Education, you have a number of options: fall offerings include training for crew—basically a beginner or conditioning class for experienced rowers, tennis, gymnastics, volleyball, basketball, and soccer—I believe that's football, right?" Albus nodded enthusiastically.

"I'd like to try soccer," he said.

"Alright." He wrote onto a small form. "And you, young man?" He looked at Scorpius.

"May I take crew?" he asked.

"Good!" He wrote on a separate form.

"We also have a number of electives from which to choose. Students are required to take one, or they may choose an extended day and take a second course. I assume you will be taking orchestra, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked Scorpius.

"Erm, yes, sir. May I take another course?"

Mr. Cullen listed the other options for electives, and Scorpius chose culinary arts, while Albus chose photography and zoology. He hoped it would be as interesting as Care of Magical Creatures.

"Well, that's that!" the dean declared. "Here are your schedules and your locker assignments. One of our student congress representatives will give you a quick tour and show you to your first class. Harry left, and Cullen showed Draco to the Headmaster's office, where he received rosters, a course list with teacher's names and office keys.

* * *

"So, you'll be responsible for conducting the chamber and symphonic orchestras, a strings class, and three piano classes. Each piano lesson is thirty minutes long. Students attend on alternate days with independent study on the days they are not with you, so you'll have roughly eighteen students for that total," explained Atkinson as he showed him to the music department. "The entire department is state of the art, with a listening lab, recording studio and recital hall. Of course, concerts are held in the performing arts center. Here we are."

They walked out of the main building and down a corridor lined with tall, arched windows which looked out onto the school grounds towards a set of double doors beneath a sign which read Martha Paxton Conservatory of Music.

"Here's your office." They pushed open the door. The room was large, and featured an executive desk and chair in front of a stained glass window. There was a grand piano on one side of the room and matching bookshelves framed a row of file cabinets fashioned to match the woodwork. Draco pulled open a drawer and discovered several files of music scores. "The room is built to professional music studio specifications for acoustics and sound-proofing." He pointed to a door just beyond the desk. "And this door leads directly into the orchestra studio."

Atkinson led him out of the office and into the corridor, pointing out each classroom. " This is the choral studio. Ms. Hong is the choral director, and Musical Theater instructor. The other instructor offices and classrooms are located down the main corridor. Mr. Whitman teaches Composition, Jazz Band Studio—that's Mr. Polk. He also teaches Brass. Dr. Meyers teaches Music Appreciation, Theory and Music History. Dr. Vargas is Percussion. She's a feisty one! Finally Madame Gruber teaches Woodwinds. I've arranged a department meeting for this afternoon so that you can get to know everyone. Oh, yes! I nearly forgot. The orchestra and dance department collaborate each year to present The Nutcracker. You'll want to meet with Madame Janiček to arrange the rehearsal schedules. These are your office hours, make yourself at home! Someone from IT will get your computer passwords to you by the end of the week. Dial my office if you have any questions, and welcome to Lakeshore Prep!"

* * *

"Ah! Novum alumni! Opera Latina grata est! Professor sum Horowitz, et tu es?" The exuberant professor looked like a young version of the portly potions professor, Horace Slughorn.

"Salve, magister. Albus Potter est nomen meum." Albus greeted the teacher.

"Scorpius Malfoy est nomen meum, Professor." Scorpius gave Horowitz a nod.

"And _this,_ dominarum et iudices ( _ladies and gentlemen_ ) is what we aspire to in this class. I fear you may be rather advanced for Elementary Latin! I assume you have studied the language tua priorem scholae?"

"No sir, but all of our professors taught some portion of our lectures in the language," Albus replied.

"My mother began my instruction when I was very young."

"Impressive! Bene, ut sedes vestras. ( _well, take your seats_ )." He gestured to two empty desks.

As the dean had indicated, the class was indeed small. There were only about twelve students present. Among them, Scorpius and Albus recognized Bella's boyfriend, Tucker. Albus found himself in the adjacent seat.

"Do you two do everything together?" Tucker whispered.

"Of course not." Albus gave him a wary look.

"Bella was awfully disappointed that you didn't come out to the boathouse last night. You _do_ know that she's taken."

"Okay." Albus shrugged.

"Just so you know." Tucker gave him a pointed look. Albus looked away, hoping that he wasn't about to find himself in the same situation with his peers as he had at Hogwarts.

"Gentlemen. Listening lab has begun." Mr. Horowitz handed Albus a set of headphones. In the next row, Scorpius held his in confusion. "You'll find a port under your desktop on the right hand side."

Albus gestured to Scorpius and demonstrated how to plug the devices in and place the headphones over their ears. Scorpius was surprised to hear a voice reciting phrases. The class passed with little fanfare as both boys were already familiar with the terms and vocabulary taught. The bell rang and they gathered their belongings with the rest of the class.

"That was easy," Albus announced as they stepped into the hall. He looked at his schedule. "I've got physical education next. What about you?"

"Symphonic Orchestra—shit!" he suddenly exclaimed.

"It can't be that bad. You've had lessons with your father before haven't you?" Albus asked. They found their lockers and Albus showed Scorpius how to work the combination lock.

"It'd be easier just to use _Alohomora._ " Scorpius pointed out in a low voice. "Anyway, I'm not worried about the class. I put my violin into my rucksack!"

"So?"

"I _put_ my violin into my _rucksack._ " Scorpius repeated emphatically, holding up the satchel. Albus immediately comprehended that the book bag was not quite large enough to accommodate a violin case, and his lips parted with the realization.

"Extension charm!" he exclaimed. Scorpius nodded, a worried expression on his face. "Just find a lavatory and take it out before you go to class." They looked at the map of the campus they'd been given. "There's one, just outside of the music building."

Scorpius sighed with relief. They closed their lockers and set off in opposite directions. The bell sounded, just as Albus entered the gymnasium. He followed a group of boys into the locker room where he found the soccer coach, a young man, built like a Quidditch Beater, named Garcia.

"You need to dress out, bro. Find an empty locker to put your stuff in."

"I don't have a strip, sir," said Albus."

"A what?"

"Erm, a kit? Proper clothing for class?" he pointed to the uniforms that the other students were changing into.

"Oh, a uniform! That's what we call them here. C'mon." he led Albus to a closet where he handed him a jersey, shorts, socks and shin pads, all in the school colors. "You can wear these for today. The school store sells uniforms for P.E. You can get everything you need there. . I hope you at least have cleats. We don't supply those." Albus nodded.

"Well, hurry and get changed." Coach Garcia gave him a light push back into the locker room. "On the field in five!" he called out.

Albus quickly changed, and looked down at his shoes. He didn't have cleats and he knew that the casual brogues he wore would not work. Coach Garcia blew his whistle and Albus made a decision. He dashed into the nearest bathroom stall and drew his wand from his pocket.

" _Please, please, please work!_ " he whispered, closing his eyes and pointing his wand at his feet. "S _utorem Veteramentarium!_ " His toes felt as if they'd been placed into a vise for a few seconds. He opened his eyes and looked down, exhaling a breath when he saw a pair of soccer cleats on his feet. Albus exited the toilets and hastened to follow the last student out to the pitch.

"Òrale!" Garcia blew his whistle, waving the class to the touchline. "Huddle up, guys! We got a new student—what's your name, kid?"

"Oh, I'm Albus Potter."

"Right. This is Potter." The coach shoved a scrimmage vest into Albus' hands. "We're doing full scrimmage this morning, people. Potter, you can play goalie for the yellow squad. Let's go!"

Albus pulled on the vest and followed the other players on his squad out to the pitch, trying to remember what to do.

"Let's go, Potter!" one of the boys yelled, pointing to the penalty area and goal. Albus breathed a sigh of relief, and ran to stand near the net.

He remembered from watching Eliza play, that, like Quidditch, his primary function was to prevent the opposing team from scoring. Fortunately, his squad seemed to be the superior of the two, scoring three goals before the ball made its way towards him. It was then that he saw two players on the opposing team aggressively moving the ball in his direction, avoiding his squad's efforts to dispossess them. Hunter passed the ball to Tucker, who grinned maliciously as he closed in for a goal shot. He kicked the ball hard, and it flew into the air.

" _Ascendio Modicum!_ " Albus thought to himself, as he leapt, stretching out his arms. The charm lifted him into the air, and the ball hit him squarely in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. He landed ungracefully on his side. Albus scrambled to his feet in embarrassment, to see the players on both squads staring at him in amazement.

" _Daaayum!_ " exclaimed one boy, a slightly stocky Black kid with short dreadlocks. "How you do that?"

"Holy shit! How did he get that high? …and he blocked it with his chest! …Thibaut Cortois can't even do that!" The players muttered among themselves. Coach Garcia ran down the pitch with a whoop.

"What was that?" he cried.

"I-I've never actually played football," Albus apologized. "I-is that against the rules?" he nervously asked, cheeks pink with embarrassment.

"Yo, coach! You gotta put him on varsity!" the boy with the dreadlocks insisted.

"Hey, wait a minute!" Tucker protested. "What about Magoro?"

"C'mon, man! Magoro couldn't stop the ball if it was duct-taped to his hands!" the other boy argued.

"Oye! That's just one goal, fellas. I had an _inspiration_ that _maybe_ we could finish this match before the end of the period. Then we can see how you really play, huh? Alright, let's go! Restart!"

* * *

Scorpius placed his foot against the commode and balanced his backpack on his knee, pulling his violin from the extended depths of the bag, before hurrying to the music wing. He slipped into the orchestra studio and scanned the room. A traditional arced seating arrangement, with the large percussion instruments arranged at the rear nearest the door, faced the conductor's podium and a low stage at the front of the room. Several students were taking seats and assembling or warming up instruments. Others were entering and exiting through a second doorway on the side of the room. Lilac waved to him from there, and he made his way over.

"Hello!" he smiled as he approached.

"Hey." She returned his smile. "You can pick a cubby in here and put your things in it." She pointed over her shoulder with her piccolo, and he looked into the anteroom, filled with cubbies of various sizes, where other students storing book bags and instrument cases in the small room.

"Thanks." She winked and went to her seat. Scorpius spied an empty cubby and opened his case. He carefully removed his violin and bow, stowing his belongings away, and went back out into the other room where he took a seat in the first row of the violin section, nearest the conductor's podium.

"Uh, _no._ I don't think so!" Scorpius heard someone scoff, and he looked up. "I _sincerely_ doubt you're good enough for this position," she haughtily informed him.

"Erm, I thought that placement auditions hadn't been held as yet," Scorpius replied.

"What's your point?" She placed a hand on her hip. "You look like an underclassman, and plebes _never_ make concertmaster, so—"

" _Dude!_ " A boy with a large afro approached them. "Is that the Strad _Sellière?_ "

"Erm…yes?"

"What?" The girl looked at the other boy, and then back to Scorpius.

"No wonder you barely passed music history, Annabeth. It was on our final last year. That _is_ the Sellière, isn't it?" A small crowd began to gather around them.

"He's got a _real Strad!_ …did I just hear Marcus say it's _the_ _Sellière? …no way!_ …Didn't Dr. Meyers say that it hadn't been seen since like 1937? …supposedly it was sold to a private collector…"

* * *

Draco peered through the window of the door that led into the studio. He saw the violinists crowded around Scorpius, who appeared to be nervous, clutching his antique violin tightly. Draco took a breath and turned the knob. He could not be seen giving his son preferential treatment, so rather than address the situation, he pushed open the door, closing it firmly behind him with authority. The students scrambled to their seats. Scorpius took a seat at the back of the first violin section.

"In the future, I expect all students to be seated and tuning at the bell," he said as he strode to the podium and adjusted his music stand. "I am told that this orchestra is highly renowned, therefore I expect nothing but the highest standard of performance at all times." He set his folio down and silently gazed around the room.

Draco was impressed to see a full orchestra with what appeared to be close to eighty musicians, including two harpists. The students sat at attention, nervous gazes upon most of their faces as they waited for him to continue.

"Music is not a collection of notes and sounds. It is a living, breathing thing," he said. "It is capable of expressing strong emotion—passion, fear, love! It speaks many languages, and has a soul which it pours out, each time it speaks. I am Professor Malfoy, you may call me Maestro, or Professor. _Who_ are you?" Draco removed his roster from his folio and began to take roll, carefully committing faces and instruments to memory.

"Marcus Belton..." The boy with the afro, responded in the affirmative. "...Carrie Coopersmith…William Riley…Melissa Rowan…Amanda Sloane…Lilac Sn—" Draco paused, looking up suddenly. "Snape? Lilac Snape?"

"Present." Draco gawked at the dark-haired girl in the woodwind section. She stared back at him curiously. "Sir?" Draco shook off his stupor.

"Forgive me. I was caught a bit off guard by your surname. It just happens to be the same as someone I once knew." He heaved a deep breath. "Let us continue, Derrick Stroud…" Draco forced himself to focus as he completed the roster and commenced with his class.

"Now then, I understand that your previous instructor departed before principals were assigned. Therefore, auditions will take place beginning a week from Monday—that is yesterday. In order to ensure fairness, this will be a blind adjudication. You may pick up audition pieces from the stage at the end of the lesson. Next, I am sure you are aware of the Grey's Valley Solo and Ensemble Competition, which is six weeks away. All students planning to participate should submit their chosen compositions and if competing as an ensemble, the names of all participants in your group, no later than Friday. Are there any questions?" No one raised their hands. Draco turned to the violinist in the first chair to his left.

"Miss…"

"Massey. Annabeth Massey," she offered, sitting up primly.

"Right. Miss Massey, please proceed with tuning."

"Yes, Maestro."

Draco opened his folio and began to page through his music as the girl stood. Annabeth lifted her violin to her chin and played an A. Draco looked up sharply, watching her gesture to the violin and viola sections.

" _What_ is she doing?" Scorpius muttered to himself.

"Looking stupid as hell," Marcus quietly replied with a snicker. Scorpius snorted.

"Just a moment." Draco raised his hand to stop her. "May I assume, young lady, that you are _not_ the concertmaster?"

"No, Maestro, I—"

"Be seated." He cut her off. "Young man." He pointed to the last row. Scorpius blushed, and surreptitiously pointed to himself. "You, with the Pressenda." Marcus pointed to himself. Scorpius sighed with relief." Mr. Belton, is it?"

"Yes, Maestro."

"Perhaps you can tell us what orchestral protocol demands for tuning?"

"Yes, Maestro. The principal oboe plays three A's as called for by the concertmaster, who proceeds with tuning first the brass, followed by woodwinds, low strings, and finally violin and viola, which tunes to the concertmaster's A."

"Very good. Kindly step forward and commence tuning."

"Mm-hmm!" Marcus hummed under his breath. He held out a hand to Scorpius, who remembered that Albus had explained touching palms was a gesture of solidarity. He lightly placed his hand on Marcus' before the other boy stood and moved to the front of the group.

He raised three fingers and nodded at a girl in the woodwind section. She adjusted a tuner and played an A. Draco carefully observed the process, making notes about each section.

"Thank you, Mr. Belton. You may be seated." Marcus turned back to his seat. "No. _There."_ Draco pointed to the seat that Annabeth occupied. She gawked at him with an affronted expression. Draco raised a brow, and she let out a huff, leaving her seat. Annabeth glared at him as she dropped into the empty seat beside Scorpius. "Very good. I would like to observe your bowing." Marcus sat, and Draco opened his folio. "The Nutcracker Suite. Let us begin with the Danse Chinoise. He raised his baton and the students immediately moved to the ready position. He counted the tempo, and the music began. At the flute solo, Draco stopped them, tapping his baton on the stand.

"What is your name?" he asked the girl.

"Caroline Beatty."

"Miss Beatty, please play that phrase once more." The girl replayed the first three bars of the selection once again. Draco pursed his lips. "Right. Right. Mr. Malfoy, what is the time signature for this dance?"

"Common time, Maestro." Scorpius quickly responded.

"And the tempo, Miss Snape?"

"That would be allegro moderato, sir."

"Which is typically defined as quick-paced and bright, yet slightly slower than allegro, yes, Miss Beatty?"

"Yes, Maestro."

"Did you not hear the bassoons?"

"Yes, sir."

"I am fairly confident that they set the tempo at a brisk 118 beats per minute."

"Yes, sir."

"Why then, are you playing the _clearly_ indicated sixteenth notes as eighths? It is _called_ 'Tea', not 'oversteeped tea bag'." Light laughter floated up around the room. Caroline's face was pink with embarrassment. Draco raised a brow. "Be not discomfited, my dear girl. At some point in this school term, every one of your classmates shall have his or her moment of shame." He curled his lips in a slightly menacing smile as his eyes moved across the ensemble. "For the moment at least...Miss Snape, do you think you can demonstrate the proper tempo here?"

"Yes, Maestro," Lilac replied with a bit more confidence than she felt. She exchanged her piccolo for her flute.

"Shall we begin again?" The bassoons played the introduction, and Lilac came in, sliding up the run of sixteenth notes, and ending the first phrase with a clear trill."

"Lovely!" Draco commented over the music as they continued.

Draco conducted the rehearsal with exacting detail, analyzing and correcting every element of the music, from bowing to embouchure and stick control.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it would serve you well to remember my comments today, as you prepare for principal auditions. If you are not practicing at least one hour daily, consider it a serious breach of commitment to your craft. Failure to observe proper orchestral etiquette is the highest insult to your colleagues, and demonstrates that you are not giving your art the respect it deserves." He looked at the clock. "That is all."

* * *

Albus exited the locker room in a daze. Coach Garcia had invited him to join the soccer team as a substitute goalkeeper. He couldn't believe it. After all, he'd had no idea what he was doing. Whenever his squad went on the offense, he watched the opposing team's keeper, memorizing his tactics. When the ball came towards him, Albus tried to employ what he'd learned, sometimes with the help of a well-placed charm or spell. He stopped in the middle of the corridor, causing a girl behind him to plow into his back.

"Watch where you're going!" she growled.

"Sorry." He automatically apologized, his head still swirling with and amazing revelation.

After transfiguring his shoes, Albus had carefully tucked his wand into the pocket of his slacks. He hadn't been in possession of it at all, the entire time he was on the pitch!

"I did wandless magic!" he whispered to himself. "Merlin's wand!"

* * *

"Fucking asshole!" Annabeth whispered to herself as she snatched up her sheet music and joined the students swarming to the anteroom to pack up.

"Man! That was intense!" Marcus exclaimed, grabbing his case from a cubby above Scorpius'. "Hey, your name is Malfoy, right? Are you Maestro's son?"

"Erm…yes, I am. I-I'm Scorpius." He offered his hand. Marcus shook it.

"Interesting name. I'm Marcus."

"Right." Scorpius carefully laid his violin on the velvet padding of the polished wood case.

"So, is he always like that?" Marcus asked, packing away his own instrument.

"No," Scorpius replied, latching his case. "Sometimes, he frowns." Scorpius smiled. Marcus laughed, lightly punching his shoulder.

"Well, I think he's awesome. I haven't had a rehearsal that intense since I spent the summer at Interlochen two years ago!" he declared as they exited the studio.

"Well, I think he's a pretentious egomaniac," Annabeth complained. A few nearby students gasped.

"Girl, you're like Kanye at the symphony."

"I beg your pardon?" She tossed her hair, giving him a disdainful look.

" _No class!_ " several students chorused, breaking up with laughter. Scorpius smiled. Annabeth stormed off.

"She has no orchestra etiquette." Lilac joined them.

"I swear she's just in it to have something impressive on her college applications," said Marcus. "Well, I'm off to Calculus! Hey, later, Scorpius Malfoy. Welcome to Prep!" he called as he departed.

"Hey, what's your next class?" Lilac asked as they headed back to the main building.

"Ermmm…" Scorpius checked his schedule. "English. Professor Coleman."

"Oh, that's Honors. I'm in that class too." She gestured for him to follow her up a staircase. "I can't believe you are so _in there!_ " Lilac exclaimed with a hint of derision.

"I don't get it."

"Like, the popular kids dig you."

"Dig me? Oh, you mean they _like_ me?"

"Uh, _yeah!_ " Lilac thumbed over her shoulder as they walked. "Marcus is on the tennis team, and crew, of course. He's on the Student Senate, and he's the president of the Trident Society."

"What's the Trident Society?" Scorpius asked.

"It's like a fraternity, except not exclusively male. You have to be invited to be a member. Almost all of them are on the sailing team or crew. Most of them are rich—so they either live on the lake or in the old Greyswood garden district.

"So Marcus is wealthy?"

"Are you kidding? Belton Boatworks is like the largest producers of racing shells this side of the Mississippi. They're one of the few companies that still build wooden sculls."

"Oh." He followed her into the classroom, where Albus was standing at the teacher's desk.

Mrs. Coleman issued them each textbooks and copies of the syllabus before pointing out their seats. Alphabetically, Scorpius sat in front of Albus. Lilac was seated behind them.

"How was football?" Scorpius asked as they took their seats. "Was it as fun as Quidditch?"

"What did you say?" Lilac looked at him strangely.

"What?"

"Hm?" Albus and Scorpius looked at her, feigning nonplussed expressions.

"I thought—"

"Hi, Albus!" Bella perched on the desktop beside him. "Missed you last night."

"Said the spider to the fly," Lilac muttered under her breath.

"This is an A and B conversation." Bella narrowed her eyes at Lilac.

"Well feel free to _see_ your way to your own seat." Bella was pushed off the desktop by the girl behind her. Albus and Scorpius suppressed grins, while Lilac snickered. The bell rang.

"Miss Cain, please take your seat," said Mrs. Coleman.

Bella gave the girl a malicious glare and started for the front of the room. She was halfway up the aisle, when her legs suddenly began to tremble, and she stumbled, falling ungracefully to the floor. Several students laughed. Scorpius turned and gave Albus an incredulous look. Albus vigorously shook his head in confusion.

"I don't know!" he mouthed.

"Hey!" the girl whispered, leaning towards Scorpius. "You're Maestro Malfoy's son, right?" Scorpius nodded shyly.

"I'm Saheli. Saheli Prakash. I play cello."

"Hi," whispered Scorpius. "This is Albus."

"Hey."

"Hi."

"Are you guys brothers?" she asked.

"No. We used to attend school together in England," said Albus.

"I hate to interrupt, what I am sure is an engaging conversation, with my instruction, but this material might actually become useful to you people, come exam time." Mrs. Coleman gave them a reproachful look.

* * *

The Pomona Organic Nursery was situated in a small, ivy-covered gothic cottage in the Greyswood historic district, where the high street met the homes of the garden district. An arch of wisteria vine framed the end of the flagstone walk that wound its way through a colorful and abundant English garden. A bright red door marked the entrance, and a cheerful bell sounded when the door was opened.

"Hello?" the woman called out.

"Be with you in a tick!"

The woman slowly browsed the shop while she waited. On one side of the showroom, tall, galvanized vases displayed bright cuts of gladiolus, cymbidium, hydrangea, and other colorful flowers and potted plants on tiered wooden stands. At the center of the space, a large antique table showed off elegant arrangements of Phalaenopsis orchids. Opposite the floral displays, traditional floral coolers displayed an array of cut roses and flower arrangements. Behind the counter, a breakfront apothecary display held shelves displaying bar soaps, phials of essential oils, and handmade candles, along with dozens of glass jars in a variety of sizes, containing dried leaves, powders, and seeds. Harry Potter emerged through an open doorway framed by narrow French doors at the end of the L-shaped counter.

"Hello! Welcome to the Pomona Nursery." He smiled. "We've met, yes? At the Cain's do?"

"Right! Melissa Parris." She held out her hand, and Harry shook it. "What a quaint little place you have!" she said. "I was expecting some utilitarian greenhouse and an uninspired yard with rows of plants in dull black pots." She chuckled.

"Well, we do have a greenhouse, but it isn't quite that dull. I thought something magical would be more inviting. Let me show you around."

"There's more?"

"Mm-hm! Follow me."

Melissa gasped as they stepped through the doorway and into a lush, circular garden. At the center of the space, water spilled over the surface of a large copper cauldron into a base of stones, as delicate blue water lilies floated on the surface. A path of yellow slate random flagstone wound its way through the center of the garden, while a narrower path of gravel meandered around the edge of the space.

"This is the physic garden. All of the flowers and herbs grown here have beneficial properties. The apothecary garden was the natural precursor to our modern chemist shop," Harry explained.

"Chemist shop? Oh, you mean a pharmacy!"

"Yes." He pointed to the flowers that surrounded the water feature. Right there we have thyme and chamomile, which have been shown to alleviate inflammation, gastric disorders and sore throat." He indicated the common pear trees that bordered the garden. "Did you know that pears stimulate the kidneys and also aid in weight loss?"

"Really?" Melissa pulled an impressed expression.

"We also have lemon verbena there, fennel, bay leaf, and wormwood."

"What are these box hedges?" Melissa asked, pointing to the trimmed green towers at the far edge of the garden.

"That's English yew. It contains a taxane alkaloid that has proven useful in the treatment of cancer, but I wouldn't recommend using yew as anything more than an ornamental plant, as its leaves and bark are highly toxic."

They passed through an arch of espaliered common hops over a short path to the greenhouse.

"This is amazing!" Melissa exclaimed.

The windows of the glasshouse were set between timber structural beams fashioned into branches supporting the glass roof system and giving an overall atmosphere of walking through a grove of trees. Hanging bouquets of herbs and flowers hung from the branches beneath a section of roof with tinted glass. There were ground beds on one side of the space, where tomatoes, cucumber plants, peppers and peas grew. On the opposite side, a variety of potted plants and vegetables flourished on tiered stages.

"I never would have expected all of this! I only came to order some flower arrangements for the church!"

"Well, I've got some lovely arrangements in the cooler, or I can make something custom for you. What exactly did you have in mind?" Harry asked, as they strolled back to the front of the shop.

"I suppose, nothing too over the top. We prefer a certain level of austerity at Second Salem. Something conservative perhaps?"

"Hmm." Harry walked slowly among the flowers on display, tapping his lips. "How about a nice round basket of waterlily, yellow star and dinner plate dahlias? I can arrange them in a simple low-lying dome. Add a few asparagus fronds for greenery, and you have a cheerful display." Harry chose a bowl-shaped basket and led her over to his selection of the Mexican flowers.

"Dahlias? That's kind of exotic, don't you think? Is it really suitable for church?"

"Well, dahlias represent kindness, grace, purity, inner strength, commitment, and truth," he explained.

"Really?" Melissa nodded in fascination.

"All flowers have their own language and symbolism," he said. "When we choose to display them, or give them to others, we are expressing what is in our hearts."

"Amazing! Simply amazing! May I order them today, and pick them up this weekend?"

"Oh, sure. I can have them ready for you on Saturday afternoon."

"You know, I would like to invite you and your family to attend a service. Second Salem is a wonderful church. We are serious about the purification of our bodies, souls and communities." Melissa's expression morphed into something that Harry couldn't quite put his finger on. There was a particular gleam in her eye as she spoke.

"Really?"

"Oh, yes! There is just so much… _evil_ in the world right now!" she declared. "Nefarious influences are testing the very fabric of our communities, and our nation!"

"Oh?"

"You disagree?" she asked, an indignant edge to her voice.

"Well, I wouldn't necessarily say that," Harry hedged. "But haven't we always existed, on some level, in perilous times?" Melissa gasped, grapping his arm.

" _Yes!_ That's exactly it! That is why Brother Frank reminds us that it is our mission to expose the scourge that is infiltrating our ranks, right under our very noses!"

"Right." Harry struggled to school his expression, and moved behind the counter. "Well, let me just write this order up for you." He quickly filled out an invoice and accepted her payment, promising to have the arrangements ready when she returned.

Melissa purchased a few scented candles and departed. As soon as the door swung closed behind her, he flicked his wand to lock it, and blew out a long sigh. He was definitely on the right track, and thought to himself, now what?

* * *

 _This chapter has proven exceptionally long, as I wanted to establish a few more key characters and settings. I hadn't completed it, but I wanted to give you something to whet your appetite. Will Albus and Scorpius fit in at Lakeshore Prep? And **who** cast the_ jelly-legs _jinx on Bella?_


	10. Friends: How Many of Us Have Them?

_I'll bet you were wondering if I was ever coming back! Sorry it's taken some time to complete this chapter-holidays and all. When last we were together, Scorpius and Albus appeared to be making an impression on their peers at school. Let us find out what the remains of the day bring for the intrepid wizards and their fathers..._

* * *

"Merlin's balls!" Scorpius hissed, yanking open his locker. "What the hell was that?"

"I don't know!" Albus insisted, his voice low. "It wasn't me!"

"Well, I know a jelly-legs jinx when I see one! So if you didn't do it, and _I_ didn't do it, then _who_ did?"

"Wait! You don't think—could one of our classmates be—? No!"

"Well, why couldn't they? _We're_ not going to magical school."

"You have a point. I dunno." Albus shrugged. "But Scorpius—" The bell rang.

"Shit! Now we're tardy!" Scorpius grabbed his things from his locker and slammed it. "I haven't the faintest idea where my next class is located!" He examined the campus map, turning it around.

"I haven't told you about—" Albus began, but Scorpius wasn't listening.

"Wait—there it is!" He pointed to a square on the map. "I'll see you later."

"I think I did wandless magic…" Albus murmured to himself.

* * *

"You really think that an audience will sit through a three hour opera, Jenny?" Ramona Vargas asserted.

The music department teachers and Madame Janiček, the head of the dance department sat in a semicircle of chairs around Draco's desk.

"Handel's _Messiah_ is not an opera, Mona," David Whitman, the Composition instructor, stated in a bored tone.

"Yeah, I know it's an oratorio, Dave. That's not my point. _The Messiah,_ is a very long composition. There's fifty-three recitatives. Are your students up to that?"

"With combined choruses, if we begin work this semester, I am certain that we can make it work. As for the audience, I have a vision for a slightly dramatic presentation. Nadine, we may even be able to incorporate a few of your principal dancers."

"Alright, before we become too invested in this idea, I would posit that we each spend some time examining the orchestration for each instrument and voice. Such an undertaking as this _must_ be faithful to the composer's vision—" Jenny Hong opened her mouth to protest, but Draco held up his hand. "That is not to say that we cannot present it in a creative way, but the parents of Lakeshore pay a pretty penny for us to educate their children. It is only right that we present to them a body of work that demonstrates a stellar outcome on the part of the students, yes?"

"I second that," agreed Kevin Polk. "Draco—gosh, what an interesting name—ah, forgive me, as I was saying, I _would_ like to know exactly how faithful you wish to be to the original composition. Historically, the orchestra is not a sizeable one. When I visited the UK a few years ago, the London Symphony Orchestra presented a performance, and I counted _maybe_ fifty or sixty instrumentalists. In keeping with your comment about what parents and patrons are expecting to see, if we limit the orchestration—even auditioning parts for fairness—I promise, there will be pushback."

"Duly noted, Mr. Polk. As I said, perhaps we table this discussion for the time being. I have yet to begin the process of evaluating the students for principal positions. I should like to seat the orchestra and select a concertmaster before rehearsals for Nutcracker proceed too far along." There was a knock at the door, and Scorpius stepped into the office.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, sir." He began to back out of the room.

"It's quite alright, Scorpius. Has Mr. Potter arrived?" Draco gestured for him to enter. "Ladies and gentlemen, my son, Scorpius."

"Good afternoon, professors." Scorpius gave a slight bow. "No, sir. I believe that he is en route."

"Very good. I shan't be much longer."

"Yes, sir." Scorpius withdrew.

"Right then, in regards to seating…"

* * *

Scorpius took a seat in the empty orchestra studio and tucked his violin under his chin. He scanned the composition in front of him and began to play. It was the Concerto Violin in D major, Op. 35 III: Finale—Allegro Vivacissimo, by Tchaikovsky. The selection was spirited and frighteningly fast. Scorpius had no doubt that his father had chosen it for the sole purpose of challenging the students, and perhaps as a bit of intimidation as well.

As much as Scorpius knew that Draco disliked the Old Man, Scorpius often felt that his father often unconsciously emulated him in many ways. Though Draco was always fair and kind to his son, Draco could be stern and uncompromising. From an early age, Scorpius had become accustomed to a rigorous study and rehearsal regimen, in keeping with the Malfoy reputation for presenting themselves as paragons of distinction. He was startled to hear applause when he finished playing.

"You laying claim to my place?" Marcus pushed away from the door, making his way around the chairs, and taking a seat beside him at the first desk.

"Are you absolutely certain it's your seat?" Scorpius looked at him sideways. Marcus laughed.

"I hope you aren't insinuating that Daddy plays favorites," he replied, arching a brow.

"I can assure you, he doesn't—at least not in matters such as this. My grandfather had a penchant for throwing his weight around in order to open doors of opportunity for Father. Unfortunately, such favors tended to cause him more harm than good in the long run. As such, Father firmly believes that one should be cautious of preference that has not been earned."

"Good to know," Marcus nodded. "So, listen. I was wondering if you were thinking about Solo and Ensemble. Are you going to enter?"

"You _have_ met Father, yes?" Scorpius.

"Right, right. Anyway, I was talking to Saheli Prakesh about a flute quartet with her and your girl, Snape. You in?"

"How exactly would that work?" Scorpius gave him a skeptical look.

"We get together…rehearse a composition..." Marcus gave him a look that was both amused and exasperated.

"Yes, of course. I _know_ that. I mean, you suggested a flute quartet. If I'm not mistaken, that's flute, cello, violin and _viola._ "

" _I_ am willing to concede to your limited range of instrumental experience—"

" _Limited—_ "

" _Joke_. But I _do_ play viola. It was actually my first instrument. We were thinking of Mozart's Flute Quartet number one, in D major—the allegro." The door opened, and Albus bustled into the studio.

"Hey, Scorp—oh. Sorry. I didn't—" Albus paused.

"It's alright, Albus. Is it time to leave?" Scorpius asked.

"Yeah, erm…"

"Wait—hold up—this your brother?" Marcus asked.

"No. This is Albus Potter. He's my best mate. It turns out, he's just moved here as well."

"Yeah? That's what's up. I'm Marcus."

"Hello." Albus smiled, self-consciously.

"Well, look. I'm out. I'll be late for crew. Just think about it, Malfoy. Let me know if you're in."

"No, I'm—I mean, yes-yes. I'd like that—erm—I mean, I'm in! I'm in."

"Bet!" Marcus stood, picking up his bag. "Hey, what are you guys doing Sunday? GHS is rowing against Grey's County Prep, up at the reservoir on Fleming Dam. A bunch of us are going to check out the competition."

"Sounds interesting. I'd have to ask Father," said Scorpius.

"Same," Albus replied.

"That's cool. Let me know." Marcus left.

"You're making friends," Albus remarked, looking after him. Scorpius began packing away his violin and music.

"So are you. I'd say Bella Cain is quite smitten." He smirked.

"Oh, piss off, Malfoy!" Albus grimaced.

"Merlin's beard, young Potter!" Draco entered the room. "For a moment there, I thought I was looking through a pensieve at your father and myself when we were boys."

"Dad said the two of you had a rather contentious relationship," Albus shouldered his bag.

"Contentious…is that how he put it?" Draco chuckled. "Are we ready?"

"I am," Scorpius replied, pushing his violin case down into his rucksack."

"Yeah. Dad texted and said he's in the parking lot."

* * *

"Afternoon, gentlemen!" Harry smiled as Draco, Scorpius and Albus entered the vehicle. "Did we all have a good first day?"

"It was okay?" Albus replied as he buckled his seatbelt.

"Just okay?" Harry struggled to keep the disappointment from his voice as he spoke. He had fervently hoped that his son would be more comfortable away from his magical peers. He glanced at him in the rearview.

"Well, I mean…yea. It's just school after all." Albus shrugged. "I've been asked to join the football team."

Harry stepped on the brakes a bit harder than he intended as they approached an intersection. Everyone jerked forward. Scorpius and Draco gasped.

"That's—oh, sorry everyone—Albus that's brilliant! Wait—you mean association football, right? Not-not American?" He gave Albus another wary glance in the mirror. Albus chuckled.

"Yeah, Dad. Soccer—reserve keeper. I have to get my kit before practice tomorrow. Coach says I'll need my own boots though."

"Okay. We'll get you sorted. What about you, Malfoys? Good day?"

"I thought muggle school would be different than magical school. Seems like it's pretty much the same," remarked Scorpius. "They use those electronic books for everything. It's pretty intimidating."

"I've no idea how to even make the damned thing operate!" Draco declared. "The young man who came to set it up must have thought I was a complete trogloldyte. I've never seen such a thing before! He was going on about surge suppressors and passwords and logins. What does that all mean?"

"It's all about protecting your data—your information," explained Harry. "It does seem daunting at first, but it isn't too terribly difficult to learn. Computers have become more and more user friendly than they once were."

"If you say so," Draco muttered, unconvinced.

"We can show you, Mr. Malfoy," Albus suggested. "Can't we, Dad?"

"No problem, kiddo."

"It's too much, Potter. You're already helping us with the appliances, and—"

"Well, technically, a computer _is_ an appliance, and given what we discussed last night—"

"What did you discuss last night?" Albus asked.

"Adult conversation, Al." Harry quietly admonished, turning off the main boulevard and onto the winding road that led to their neighborhood.

"Father, Marcus Belton has asked me to join his quartet for the solo and ensemble competition."

"Excellent. Young Belton appears to be a fine violinist. What will you be performing?" Draco asked.

"Mozart's Flute Quartet number one, in D major. Allegro."

"Hm. Since when did a flute quartet feature two violins?" Draco asked.

"Marcus says he also plays viola."

"Does he? I'll make a note of that. And who will be playing cello and flute? I assume Miss Snape? I happened to notice that you seem to know one another."

"We met her at the Cains' fete."

"Ah. I see."

"Saheli Prakesh will be playing cello. She's in our literature class."

"Yes. Miss Prakesh is in the Strings class. Her sul tasto is _breathtaking._ " Draco closed his eyes as he spoke. Harry scoffed.

"Okay."

They arrived home shortly, and Albus dragged Scorpius up to his room immediately, barely acknowledging his father when he informed him that he would be at the Malfoy's helping Draco with the appliances.

"What's going on?" Scorpius asked as Albus locked the door.

"I tried to tell you earlier, but you were in such a hurry."

"What?" Scorpius asked again.

"I—I think I did wandless magic," Albus exclaimed, his voice breathy and incredulous.

"You said that wasn't you!" Scorpius looked at him in confusion.

"Not _that!_ " Albus insisted. " _Before,_ when I was in physical education class."

"I don't follow." Scorpius gave him a blank look. Albus explained about the soccer scrimmage, and the realization that he hadn't had his wand on his person at the time.

"I was halfway to my next class when I realized it!" Albus blabbered. Scorpius gasped.

"Wait—are you _positive?_ "

"I'm not in the habit of leaping five feet into the air, so…yeah, I think so. All I wanted was to not be embarrassed, and block the ball. I was thinking _Ascendio Modicum,_ and then the ball hit me in the chest!"

"Okay, so have you tried it again? You sure, you weren't thinking about making Bella fall over?"

" _Scorpius!_ " Albus gave him an exasperated look. He lifted his hands in concession.

" _Okay!_ I believe you…but maybe you should try it again."

"What if it doesn't work?"

"Then you know you're meant to be some kind of footquaffle hero, or something."

"It's _football!_ "

"Fine. Why don't you summon that pillow over there?" Scorpius pointed to one of the throw pillows on his couch. Albus gave him a skeptical look. "Go on then."

"Fine." Albus closed his eyes and took a deep breath, pursing his lips. " _Accio_ pillow!" The pillow on his bed quivered and remained in place. "Fuck. I knew it had to be too good to be true."

"Well, maybe you're just overthinking it."

"Dad says you have to _mean_ it, when you cast a spell." Albus sighed, and flopped onto the bed. Scorpius sat down beside him, placing a hand on his thigh.

"And _did_ you mean it?" he asked. Albus raised himself up, leaning on his elbows.

"I don't know. I thought I did."

"Albus, you have to have more confidence in yourself. If you believe that you did wandless magic, then you did." Scorpius reclined beside him, looking deeply into his green eyes. "I believe you," he said softly, giving his hand a squeeze. "Where's your wand?"

Albus withdrew his wand from his pocket. Scorpius took it and sat up. He gestured to the loveseat again. Albus let out a huff.

" _Mean_ it!" Scorpius said. Albus exhaled slowly.

" _Accio pillow!_ " he commanded. The pillow zoomed across the room and hit him in the middle. He gasped and looked to Scorpius. "I did it!" he breathed.

* * *

" _Sepio Fluctus!_ " Harry touched his wand to the electrical panel in the mechanical room located on the ground floor of Draco's house. "I don't know if it works the same on distribution boards in the UK, as it is a charm of American origin," he said.

"What's a distribution board?" Draco asked, peering curiously over Harry's shoulder.

"Oh, I forgot. A consumer unit, or an electrical panel like this…" Harry glanced back at Draco as he closed the door on the front of the box. "…controls and distributes electrical energy throughout a property. Basically, it keeps your circuits from being overloaded. It's like…how our wands channel magical energy."

"So it works to—how did McGonagall put it—consolidate the effects for maximum outcome. Yes?"

"Something like that. Our magical energy tends to overload electrical circuits, so this charm works to shield your system. With American wizards and witches beginning to integrate into muggle society, only within the latter half of the last century, they have a bit greater affinity for their technology, thus the invention of this spell," Harry explained as Draco led him back up to the kitchen, on the main floor.

"Hm. Well, to be perfectly honest, I'm completely out of my depth. I haven't the faintest idea how any of these things operate. Even the sinks have me befuddled. Why is there only one tap?" Draco shrugged, turning about in the middle of the expansive kitchen. Harry smiled, leaning over the island counter.

"That one threw me for a bit of a loop as well. Even at my aunt and uncle's home, there were two taps. The Americans set up their plumbing in a rather ingenious fashion that allows the hot and cold water to mix, so you aren't scalding yourself when you wash." Harry went to the sink and lifted the faucet lever, setting it a bit left of center. "You just move it like so, and after a moment or two, the water begins to warm. The further left you move it, the hotter it will become. If you move it to the right, it becomes cooler."

Draco wore a look of wonder as he moved to the sink and placed his hands in the spray. He moved the lever left and then right, amazed at how quickly the temperature changed.

"Intriguing! And where is the fire built for cooking? I can't very well levitate a boiling pot all the way over _there!_ " He pointed to the fireplace in the family room. "Besides, it seems ever so much smaller than the one in the kitchens at the Manor." Harry tried not to laugh, suppressing a smile as he turned off the tap.

"Draco, I absolutely cannot believe that you thought moving halfway 'round the world and taking up a muggle lifestyle would be a good idea!" he declared, leaning against the sink, his hands braced on the counter. The indignant look on Draco's face morphed into something different. "What is it? I was only joking, you know."

"No—it's…only—w-well, you've never called me Draco before."

"I—what?"

"No. Unless you've referred to me as a matter of record, you've never used my proper name."

"Haven't I?"

"In all these years, you've only ever addressed me directly as 'Malfoy.'" Draco looked at him curiously.

"Oh, well, I—" Harry was at a loss for words. He'd never taken the time to consider the formalities between himself and Draco, as they had been few and far between. Their relationship had been a contentious one from the very start. "I-I mean, we didn't exactly start off in the best of terms, did we? What with you and Ron having a go, and then Scabbers—erm Wormtail—biting Goyle, things couldn't have gone worse."

"Unbelievable! You honestly don't remember, do you?"

"Remember what?"

"We _first met_ in Madam Malkin's shop."

"Did we?" Harry looked nonplussed.

"We did. You seemed approachable enough at first, and then your demeanor turned rather cool. I had no idea who you were at the time, of course."

"Ohh, yes! You made some rather unkind remark about Hagrid, if I recall."

"I suppose I didn't quite make the best impression. Everyone had made you out to be such a powerful wizard—defeating The Dark Lord from your cot—and I sincerely doubt that I would ever have imagined the handsome, tiny boy in the couturière's to be the same person." Draco was quiet a moment, and he stepped closer to Harry. His voice was low and somewhat hoarse when he spoke again. "I honestly wanted to get to know you better that day, even before I knew who you were."

* * *

"Merlin's pants! _I did it!_ " Albus' voice was filled with awe.

"Try it again," Scorpius suggested.

" _Wingardium Leviosa!_ " The duvet rose from Albus' bed and hovered several inches above it. "Fucking hell!"

Scorpius threw his arms around Albus, tackling him onto the bed. The dark-haired wizard distracted, his duvet fell from the air, covering them. Both boys snickered.

"This is cozy," Albus remarked. He reached up to push the covers back, but Scorpius caught his hand.

"It _is_ cozy," he whispered. Scorpius rolled atop him and pressed his lips to his.

Albus felt himself grow warm all over as he opened his mouth to return the kiss. His heart pounded painfully in his chest and he felt a sensation below the belt that was new to him. Scorpius was breathless, and the warm duvet surrounding them made him feel giddy. He felt a gentle and persistent nudge against him, and goosebumps prickled his skin. He tentatively rocked his hips down against Albus.

"Ohmigod!" Albus gasped. He pushed Scorpius away. "Erm…we should—we should probably—" Scorpius rolled away from him, his cheeks pink with embarrassment.

"Yeah." He replied hoarsely, and cleared his throat.

* * *

Harry snorted. He raised a brow at Draco.

" _You_ honestly wanted to be _my_ friend?" he asked in disbelief.

"You may find it difficult to believe, I'm sure, but I was very much like Scorpius when I was young. I didn't have very many friends—well, I had associates—the right sort of acquaintances, who were hand-picked by my father. Relationships were all about establishing one's influence. I hadn't a single true friend—a confidant in whom I could place my trust." Draco traced over the veins in the marble with his fingertip, before assuming a similar stance to Harry's, their shoulders almost touching. "When Father found out that you would be attending Hogwarts, he encouraged me to get to know you. He thought your fame and obvious power would make you someone to whom a strong association would be valuable."

"I'll bet," Harry snorted.

"I didn't know who you were that day, in Madam Malkin's. I just took one look at you and thought to myself that you were someone I wanted to know—maybe someone who might like me for me, and not for what I could do for him." Harry felt Draco's hand touch his, and glanced down. He looked up sharply at Draco.

"Father! Daad!" Scorpius and Albus shouted as they burst into the house. The question on the tip of Harry's tongue evaporated as both men moved apart.

"In the kitchen, Scorpius. Please do not shout." A moment later, both boys appeared in the room from the butler's pantry.

"Sorry. Are we having dinner?" he asked.

"I'm _starved!_ " Albus exclaimed.

"I am afraid the cupboard is yet bare, son. I'll have something sorted shortly," Draco replied with more confidence than he'd felt.

He'd brought a small hamper of foodstuffs when they departed from Malfoy Manor, and fortunately, they'd eaten their fill the previous night while at the Cains'. Harry's invite had sorted them for breakfast that morning, and he found the cafeteria at Lakeshore to provide a palatable midday meal. Now, he wasn't certain how to proceed, given that conjuring food was one of the principal exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration.

"It sounds to me like you're in need of groceries," said Harry.

"Groceries. Of course. Is there a butcher on the high street?" Draco asked.

"There's a supermarket or two in town," Harry chuckled.

"What's that?"

"Imagine if you took Diagon Alley and placed it into a brightly lit hall—minus the magic—you'd have a superstore like Asda," said Albus. "Do they have an Asda here, Dad?"

"Ah, no, Al. There's a similar store, as I'm told. It's called Walmart."

A few minutes later, Scorpius and Draco were gazing around in wonder at the myriad choices for food, clothing and other sundries available in the superstore.

"There are smaller, stores which sell mainly groceries, and specialty shops that provide high end selections. Harlowe Cain swears by a shop called _Delish_ which she claims sells international meats and cheeses," Harry explained. He examined a flank steak before placing it into the cart.

Scorpius stared in awe at the television display in the electronics department.

"It's like a cinema in a portrait!" he exclaimed as Albus dragged him away to look at the sports equipment.

They returned to Shoreline Road a little over an hour later, laden with groceries, household supplies, and a bicycle for Scorpius. Harry attempted to explain non-magical currency and electronic payment to Draco, as they put away his purchases.

"So the little drawings are equivalent to…Galleons? And the coins are like Sickles?"

"Roughly. It may be easier to compare them to the Dragots."

"I am beginning to wonder if I might have considered bringing along one of the elves," Draco mused, staring at the food in the refrigerator.

"My god, how the wealthy are useless!" Harry muttered under his breath. "Draco, didn't you receive an Outstanding grade on your potions O.W.L.?"

"Naturally." Draco closed the refrigerator, and turned to him with an inquisitive expression. "Why?"

"Well, cooking is essentially the same as potion-making. You follow a recipe, or experiment with your own combinations of ingredients to create an mouthwatering meal."

"Really?"

"Mm-hm!" Harry summoned a book from the last shopping bag. "I bought this for you." He opened the cookbook on the counter and Draco gave it an appraising look. He flipped a few pages, examining the colorful and tempting photographs that accompanied many of the recipes.

"That looks interesting," Draco pointed to a photograph and its accompanying recipe.

"It's quite tasty, and very popular in the United States," said Harry. "Erm, you'll have to get your hands a bit icky for that."

"Well, I promised Scorpius that I'd learn, so…" Draco shrugged, and exhaled a deep breath. "Do we have all of the ingredients?"

* * *

"Albus! Scorpius!"

"Ah, _fuck me!_ " Albus groaned as Bella Cain hopped off her pier and trotted across the short strip of beach that separated their property from the Malfoys'.

"Hello, Bella." Scorpius gave her a weak smile.

"What's up?" Albus nodded.

"I heard you made the soccer team," she said.

"Erm, yeah. Reserve keeper." He shrugged nonchalantly. She sat down, squeezing herself between them.

"That is soo awesome! Anyway, Elena Gomez is having her Quinceañera Saturday night at the club. Do you want to be my escort?"

"What's a quinceañera?" asked Scorpius.

"Oh, it's like a sweet sixteen, but Hispanic girls have theirs to celebrate their fifteenth birthday."

"Oh." Scorpius nodded, still bemused. He looked to Albus, who also shrugged.

"What about Tucker?"

"What about him?" Bella tossed her hair.

"I-I thought he was your boyfriend."

"Well, so did I, before I saw him making out with Callie Jones last night, behind his boathouse!" She frowned.

"Oh. Well, I-I don't know. I don't think my dad will let me. I have to work at the shop on weekends."

" _Work?_ Why?"

"Because knowing the family business prepares one to take over in the future, and substantially reduces the potential for a hostile takeover," Scorpius explained in a matter-of-fact tone.

"You sound like my da-a-a-a-aagh!" she shrieked, ducking away suddenly and landing in the water with a splash. "What the hell?" she spluttered when she broke the surface, staring at the large raptor on Albus' hand. "Is that an _owl?_ "

"This is Fancy," said Albus. He tucked the envelope that he'd retrieved from the bird in the confusion into his back pocket, and raised his arm. "Would you like to meet her?"

"Oh my god! _No!_ " Bella splashed away from them. Fancy took off, circling above them, before she soared away.

"W-where's it going?" Bella asked, looking about nervously, as she treaded water.

"Hunting, probably," Albus shrugged. Bella finally swam back to the pier and climbed up onto the dock.

"Hunting?"

"Yea-ah. That's what birds of prey tend to do." Albus and Scorpius looked at her as if she was a complete idiot.

"Who has an _owl_ for a pet?" She twisted her hair, to wring the water from it, and slicked it back.

"Everyone in my family has one," Albus said.

"We have six more in the aviary back at Malfoy Manor," Scorpius added.

"Malfoy Manor?"

"Our estate in Wiltshire." Bella gave him a look of renewed wonder.

"Do you live in a _castle?_ " she asked.

"Wel—ah—no-o. I—not exactly. It-it's a manor house." Scorpius replied.

"So, you're like _really_ rich?" she asked. He shrugged uneasily, afraid that her line of questioning might lead him to say something that he shouldn't. Bella turned to Albus. "What about you? Do _you_ live on an estate back home too?"

"Ah, no. We have a house in London," he replied. "Dad inherited it from his godfather."

"Oh." Bella squeezed the hem of her shirt. "Is it big?"

"Why are you so nosey?" Scorpius asked.

"I'm not _nosey!_ " she insisted. "I'm just—"

"Scorpius! Albus! Are you out there?" Harry called. The three teens got to their feet.

"Coming, Dad!" Albus called. "We've got to go."

"Ask your dad about Elena's party!" Bella called as he and Scorpius eagerly mounted the stairs back up the hillside.

"Right-o!"

"You're not _seriously_ going to escort her, are you?" Scorpius asked when they were out of earshot.

"Not on your life!" Albus avowed.

* * *

" _You_ made all this?" Scorpius took another large bite of his burger, savory the juicy ground beef, mingled with the flavor of melted cheese, fresh lettuce and tomato. "Grmvr wdb sknlzd!" he mumbled, his mouth full.

"Honestly, Scorpius. Do show the decorum with which you were raised." Draco gave his son an exasperated look. Harry suppressed a grin.

"It _is_ delicious, Mr. Malfoy. Almost as good as Dad makes." Albus complimented him.

"Thank you, Albus. I did have some help from your father."

"The only thing missing is butterbeer," he said.

"That would be _perfect!_ " Scorpius agreed.

"I hear that Cervecería Cuarón brews a pretty good bottled butterbeer. I ordered some by owl," said Harry.

"Erm, Father, Marcus Belton invited us to attend the regatta."

"A regatta?" Draco paused, a french fry on his fork.

"It's a rowing competition. Greyswood High School versus Grey's County Prep, at the reservoir on Fleming Dam," said Albus.

"Sunday," said Scorpius.

"May we go, _please?_ " Albus begged.

"Sunday? I don't know, Al. We're attending church."

" _Church?_ " Albus gawked at his father.

"You say that as if it is a foreign concept," Harry replied.

"But it isn't Christmas, or Easter!"

"I know, but we've been invited." Harry sprinkled more vinegar over his fries. "They _really_ aren't perfect until it's well penetrated," he remarked to Draco.

"Why do _I_ have to go?" Albus whined.

"Albus." Harry lifted a brow. Albus pouted. "You can go afterwards, if it's not too late."

" _Fine._ "

"Care to join us, gentlemen? Or do you attend church on a regular basis?"

"The Malfoys have been Catholic since Armand Malfoy arrived in England with William I. There is even an oratory on the grounds of Malfoy Manor, though in the last decade or so, we have been somewhat lapsed in regular attendance. It is, after all, rather difficult to retain an officiant with a soulless dark wizard in residence. However, Astoria insisted upon celebrating mass as often as she was up to it." A slight pall fell over the table for a moment, before Draco spoke again. "I think we _will_ join you, Potter."

"But—" Scorpius protested.

"I am certain, Scorpius, that there will be plenty of time for fraternization afterwards."

Scorpius grimaced, but said no more. Arguing with his father would only result in a loss of privileges.

"So, haven't you boys got homework?" Harry asked.

"I submitted mine during maths," said Albus.

"I'm still trying to figure out how to turn on the computer," Scorpius moaned, slouching in his chair.

"C'mon, I'll show you." Albus grabbed his hand, and dragged him out of his chair, leaving their parents alone. Harry got to his feet and began to gather the dishes.

"Do you _ever_ use a wand?" Draco asked.

"I have been known to perform magic from time to time," Harry grinned. He flicked his wand and the dishwasher opened, the racks rolling out. "However, _I_ am not the one who needs lessons to fit into the muggle world." Another flick of the wand, sent the dishes flying into the appliance. He beckoned for Draco to follow, and demonstrated how to add detergent and start the wash cycle.

"Hmm. I must say that muggles have adapted very well to a life without magic. Drink?" he offered. Harry nodded, and Draco poured them each a glass of wine before they made their way out to the large patio that overlooked the pool and the sloping gardens above the lake.

A few sailboats drifted leisurely past, their subtle wakes shattering the orange reflection of the setting sun on the water. Harry leaned against the rail, looking out across the water.

"I erm, I hope I didn't unearth any painful memories over dinner. It seems that you loved Astoria deeply."

"Astoria was quite a lovely woman. It is cruel that Scorpius should lose his mother while still yet a boy."

"What about you?" Harry sipped his wine, resting his hip against the rail.

"I wasn't certain about her at first. Ours was arranged, as is tradition. Frankly, I was rather surprised that her father consented to the betrothal. I'm sure you'll find it no surprise that few families wish to be connected with a former Death Eater. However, Astoria, too, seemed changed by all that had happened. I did finally find someone in whom I could share my true feelings…and my regrets. Mother and Father were predictably disappointed, and attempted to dissuade me from asking for her hand. Lucius and I rowed for days before the wedding." He sipped his wine. "I loved Astoria. It wasn't an all-consuming erotic passion, but more like a…a _profound_ type of friendship."

"She understood you," Harry offered.

"Yes! Yes, that's it! My entire life, I have felt alone. It doesn't matter how many fawning sycophants surrounded me, no one actually cared for me. No one ever listened to me before Astoria. Do you know that she ignored the healer's warnings about the danger of giving birth, because she didn't want me to be alone?"

"Really?"

"They don't know that I overheard them, but Astoria told Scorpius to look after me. She was so frail at that point. We all knew that she didn't have long. She told our son that I needed him more than he needed me. Quite honestly, that was the one time that I was ever angry with her. She was asking too much of someone so young!" Draco emptied his glass. "I know that I've spoiled him terribly. I simply cannot allow him to feel that he must take on such a monumental responsibility! Can you imagine such a burden?"

"You're asking the 'Chosen One'?" Harry made air-quotes. Draco conceded with a nod.

"Mea Culpa." He rested his elbows on the rail. "I don't know if I'll ever find another perfect friend." He sighed. Harry placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You never know when that someone will appear. That's the thing about a perfect love, it's there when you least expect it."

Draco stood, searching his eyes in the fading light. Harry held his gaze with a questioning expression.

* * *

 _CLIFFHANGER! So, things are perhaps about to become serious between Albus and Scorpius, despite Bella's best efforts to obtain favor with Al. But what about Draco and Harry? And how will things turn out at Second Salem Church? Stay tuned..._


	11. Moral Wilderness

_I know it seems like an endless buildup, but I promise, things are going to get very interesting very soon. I just don't like to keep my readers waiting, and with the holidays, it's terribly busy around here. Thanks so much to all of the followers who are staying with me._

* * *

Harry barely registered Albus' "good night" as they entered the house. He pondered the conversation that he'd had with Draco before they'd gone shopping, and after the meal. Harry felt that Draco was making an attempt to share something personal, but he wasn't certain what. He heard the floo sounding and apparated up to his bedroom, casting a spell for privacy. After tossing in a pinch of powder, Ginny's head appeared in the flames.

"I've been trying to reach you," he said, settling on the floor in front of the hearth.

"I've been busy. It's the run up to the World Cup, you know."

"Right. I just thought, you'd make some time—"

"To do what, exactly, Harry?"

"I don't know Ginny— _talk?_ " he sighed. "I don't want to fight with you, but we need to work things out and the sooner the better. After all, you and I aren't the only ones affected by this."

" _Now_ you're thinking of the children?" Ginny shook her head. "Wow."

"Stop it, Ginny!" Harry snapped. "You're acting like Ron used to when he was in a strop!"

"I beg your pardon!"

"The fact of the matter is that Albus heard us that night, before you walked out. He knows about Gordon."

"He—I—what? You _told him?_ Harry!"

"Are you _listening_ to me? He _heard_ us. He thinks you're never going to come here, and that we're splitting up."

"Fucking, Merlin, Harry! What did you say to him?"

"I told him the truth—"

"The truth? Which version? The truth according to Harry Potter?"

"I told him that he'd heard everything correctly. I confessed that I haven't been as attentive to the needs of the family as I should have been, and that whatever problems you and I are having; we will have to work through them. By the way, I received a ridiculously long text message from Hermione. She said you got splinched a few nights ago, and that you told her what happened. I'm guessing she hasn't told Ron, given that he hasn't made an unannounced portkey visit."

"I guess not, or Mum would have been right with him. She's still upset that I would let you and Albus go there on your own. I've received no less than five howlers demanding to know when I'm going to join you. One of them included a clipping from _World Quidditch_ magazine, with a classified listing for a coach and instructor position at Ilvermorny." She scoffed. "Everyone wants me to give up my career! Me, teaching Quidditch and flying at my son's school?"

"Erm, actually, Albus isn't going to Ilvermorny," Harry confessed, scratching the back of his neck.

"What?" The flames grew taller, magnifying the size of Ginny's expression. "How could you allow him to drop out of school? Albus is only fifteen!"

"Ginny! I never said I'd allowed him to drop out of school. I _said_ he isn't going to Ilvermorny. He said he wanted to enroll in a muggle school."

"But—"

"I'll still be teaching him the magic that he needs to know. I spoke with a representative from the Office of Magical Relations and Education at MACUSA. She assured me that home-schooled students are eligible to sit for the Advanced Wizarding Examinations, and Hermione says that the Ministry of Magic accepts A.W.E.s as requisites for N.E.W.T.s. There's even an extensive study guide available."

"God, Harry!" Ginny shook her head once more.

"What do you want from me, Ginny? Honestly."

"I want you to _care!_ " she shouted.

"I _do_ care!"

"No you don't! I want you to care that I fucking cheated on you! I want you to be jealous, to…to…I don't know." She deflated.

"Is that why you started seeing Gordon? From where I stand, it seems his affections for you are very real. What about you?"

"I—" she began.

"Ginny, I _do_ care…and I love you. Everything you said about me was true. I do tend to rush headlong into the fire without considering the consequences. I've lived with this yoke of responsibility for so long, that I don't know how to live without it. Still, the happiness of my family is important to me, and it's obvious that you're not content." Harry's chest felt tight. What was he doing? Ginny was silent for almost a minute. Despite the flickering of her image in the flames, he could see the tears that wet her face. "Ginny?"

"I—I have to go!" She disappeared. Harry leapt forward, reaching towards the fire.

"Wait! Gin—" The flames flared up a moment before returning to normal. "What just happened?" he whispered to himself.

* * *

Draco's fingers danced over the piano's keyboard as if guided by magic itself. It had been quite some time since he'd ever played Liszt's _Liebesträum No. 3._ Yet, as he played, the music flowed forth, hovering above the grand piano as if it had only been a day. The song spoke to him, and had always been one of his favorites. As he played, he reflected upon the last time he had performed the piece.

Draco had moved a piano into their suite of rooms, first, for Astoria to amuse herself—she played while he or Scorpius accompanied her on violin. Sometimes they all played together—she on piano, Scorpius on violin, and Draco on viola or cello. When she became too weak, Draco serenaded her with her favorite tunes. On this day, he had carried her to the settee in the boudoir, where she asked him to play for her.

* * *

 _"Play the_ Liebesträume _, my dear," she had requested, as he carefully tucked blankets and pillows about her. "The Number Three, you play it so beautifully." Her voice was barely a whisper. Draco gave her a smile, lightly brushing her thin hair away from her face before he went to the piano and sat. He took a deep breath and began to play. As his fingers lifted from the final notes, Draco turned to see her lying with her eyes closed, and he rushed to her side._

 _"Astoria!" he breathed, taking her hand. She squeezed it back and opened her eyes._

 _"I'm here, love. I was only enjoying the beauty of the music. The nocturne so tenderly speaks to the heart, and the title is most appropriate._ O lieb', solang du lieben kannst! _Do you know what it means?"_

 _"If my German is correct, it means,_ Love as Long as You Can _."_

 _"Yes. Have you ever been in love, Draco?" she asked._

 _"What? Of course! I love you, Astoria. I cherish every moment we've had with one another, and with Scorpius." Draco creased his brow. He knew that grave illness occasionally caused some patients to lapse into dementia near the end._

 _"Oh, you! There has never been a doubt in my mind that you care deeply for me, Draco, but I know true love when I see it. I am talking about that ever abiding, hearts in cadence, can't go on in this world without you type of love. The kind that leaves you breathless at the sight of that certain someone; I mean the love that leaves a mark—amour courtois."_

 _"I—I don't—Astoria, I_ love _you." He sniffled, kissing her hand, and closing his eyes._

 _"Draco…Draco, please look at me," she said. "The time is past for pretending—"_

 _"But, I—"_

 _"I know your heart, Draco. That deep love, you've reserved for another, and carried it quietly and deeply within for years. I don't even know if you recognize it for what it is any more, but you told me of it early on—of how you placed yourself in grave peril at the height of the war, only for the hope of saving your one and only from the Dark Lord." Draco's jaw dropped, and he realized the truth of her words at last. She touched his face, her fingers cool._

 _"Astoria!" he sighed._

 _"Draco, promise me that you will not allow my departure from this place resign you to a life of seclusion. If there is a spark of chance for you, pursue it as a knight for his lady." She tucked a lock of his pale hair behind his ear, and he took her hand, kissing it once more._

 _"You tire yourself, darling," he said, noting her labored breathing. She smiled weakly._

 _"Be the best example for Scorpius._ Love _as long as you may." Astoria closed her eyes and her grip went slack in his._

* * *

Draco played the final chords of the selection and sat quietly, gazing out of the curved windows towards the line of trees that separated his property from Harry's.

"I don't know what I am doing, Astoria, but I promise I will try."

* * *

"Amen." Lilac pushed herself up from her knees and drew back the covers on her bed. There was a soft knock at the door.

"Lilac!" her father softly called her name. She pulled open the door a fraction and peeked out, holding the collar of her robe.

"Is she sleeping?" she asked.

"Meet me in the garage in five minutes!" he whispered.

She closed her door and dashed to her closet, where she knelt and pushed aside her old toy box. Lilac poked her finger into a knothole, and pulled up the floorboard. She reached inside and removed a tattered-looking flute case, tucking it under her arm as she stepped into her slippers. She crept down the stairs and tiptoed past her mother's bedroom just in time to see her father disappear out the side door.

Eric Snape pulled a chain and lit the single bulb that illuminated the detached garage behind the small cottage just off the public lake access road, referred to by some as Gypsy Bottom, due to the fact that many of the homes there were occupied by seasonal workers and vacationers. He reached behind several buckets of paint on a low shelf, and retrieved a slightly dented greenish-turquoise tackle box with an embossed 12" ruler on the lid, a silver metal handle and a rusty latch. He set it on the workbench and opened it. Beneath a plastic tray which held an assortment of fishing lures lay an eleven-inch wand crafted of willow, with a hilt that resembled a row of beads. He looked over his shoulder before removing it from it hiding place and casting protective enchantments upon the space.

" _Muffliato! Repello Muggletum!_ " he said, just as Lilac stepped into the building. "Lock the door." She did so and went to the workbench, where she opened the flute case and removed her own wand.

The twelve-inch pine wand had a golden finish that Lilac had found mesmerizing from the first day that she'd curled her fingers around the hilt. She held it up to the light with a reverence of a small child with its first special toy.

"I thought that tonight we would work on some more offensive and defensive spells."

"Okay." Lilac brushed her hair out of her face.

"This one is kind of strong, so stand well out of the way, alright?" Eric gestured for her to move to the wall. It's an area spell that, in a pinch, will protect you in all directions. The incantation is _Radii Inspiratione._ "

"R _adii Inspiratione,_ " his daughter repeated.

"Good. Place that old sewing mannequin just there, hon." Lilac summoned the mannequin to the spot her father indicated. "Very good!" Her father smiled. She grinned in response. "Alrighty then. Here we go!" He took a breath and stabbed his wand downwards forcefully. " _Radii Inspiratione!_ "

Lilac felt a whoosh of air as the ground rumbled beneath her feet, and the sewing mannequin that stood just a few feet in front of her father fell to the ground. The lightbulb overhead exploded with a small pop.

" _Lumos! Lumos!_ " They lit their wands.

"Holy crap!" Lilac exclaimed. She went to a closet near the door and retrieved a box of lightbulbs while her father vanished the damaged remains of the broken bulb. He flipped the breaker, and held out his hand for the replacement.

"Normally, the electronics and wiring is protected from magical surges with the spell that I showed you, but the Area Spell is just strong enough to override it. You have to be very careful with that spell, hon. It's like unleashing an electromagnetic pulse in the immediate area, and No-Majs will _definitely notice_ that something has happened. If you had been standing within six or seven feet of me, you'd have been stunned." He screwed in the replacement bulb, and the room was again awash with light.

"What about a shield charm?" she asked, picking up the mannequin.

"Even with a shield charm, you would have been propelled backward significantly, if not knocked completely off your feet."

"Oh." Lilac nodded thoughtfully. "Can I try it?"

"Sure! Stand here."

Lilac stood where her father indicated, and licked her lips before casting the spell. She was delighted when the light was blown out, and her father smiled broadly. They practiced a number of defensive spells and charms, including _Depulso,_ the freezing charm, _Carpe Retractum,_ and the severing charm. Lilac cleanly sliced through a scrap of diamond plate steel.

"I'll tell you what, little lady! You're something else!" Eric Snape exclaimed, giving his daughter a broad smile.

"Thanks, Daddy." She helped him repair the items that they had broken, and put everything away.

"You look like there's something on your mind, puddin'."

"Well…" she hedged.

"Lilac, you can tell me anything. You know that, right?"

"I know, just…well, what's the point of having a wand, if I can't use it?" Lilac set her wand into the old flute case once more, trailing her fingers over it.

"Honey, wizards are forbidden to use magic in the presence of No-Majs. It's an international law. When I was born, the United States had only allowed mixing with non-magical people for a few years."

"Yeah, I know. You told me all of that, and I read it in your books, but—well, why couldn't I go to that school—the one you went to—Idyllwild?"

"It's Ilvermorny," Eric chuckled. "If things had been different, Lilac, I would have sent you to school there, but your mom—she's so entrenched in the church and what they say."

"Well…never mind." Lilac closed the flute case with a sigh. "Why did you marry her? I don't understand. If you knew that she hated magic—"

"It's not that simple, Pud. When your mom and I got married, she didn't think the way she does now. It wasn't until we became involved with Second Salem, that she began to get these ideas in her head. Religious conservatism and a belief that we should be eradicated—all this is new. Surely, you remember how things used to be. She'd only be frightened and upset to learn the truth." Eric placed his hands on his daughter's shoulders and looked into her eyes. "I love your mother, Lilac. I know things aren't easy, and you probably think that they should be better because we have magic to help things along."

"Well—"

"Magic doesn't automatically make everything better, kiddo. As you get older, you'll understand. I know that sounds terribly cliché, but there's truth in it, I promise. You'll be seventeen in two years, and then you can make your own decisions about your magic. If you promise to finish school, I'll even consent to your emancipation. Until then, it's safest if no one knows about us." He held up his pinky, and she hooked it with her own. "No unsupervised magic." Lilac shifted her gaze.

"Uhh…"

"Lilac…what did you do?"

"Well, I sort of jinxed Bella Cain during English class." She shrugged, guiltily.

"Li—I _told_ you not to—wait—how did you do that?"

"She pissed me off, and when she was heading back to her seat, I cast a jelly-legs jinx and she fell down." Lilac pressed her lips together to suppress the smile of satisfaction at the memory.

"Without a wand?" Eric's eyes grew large as he looked at his daughter.

"Yeah."

"And no one heard you utter the incantation?" he asked.

"I didn't say anything, I just sort of _thought_ it," she replied.

"You—I—you—" Eric backed slowly away from her and began to pace, raking his hands through his hair. "Witch cake and poppets!" he exclaimed.

"I'm—what's wrong? I'm sorry, Dad!" Lilac anxiously watched her father pacing.

"It's—no, hon. You didn't exactly do anything wrong. It's just—well, nonverbal wandless magic is typically very difficult, even for mature witches and wizards. Granted, the jelly-legs jinx isn't a complex spell, but—oh, Lilac! You _have_ to promise me that you won't give yourself away!"

"I _won't!_ I promise!"

"Alright, sweetheart. Good, girl. Umm, I'm thinking maybe tomorrow night, we work on the memory charm."

"Uh, okay," Lilac replied, doubtfully. Eric enfolded her in a tight hug, kissing the top of her head.

* * *

"Thanks for helping me with my homework," said Scorpius. He lay on his stomach, the two-way mirror, propped on a pillow in front of him, as he smiled at Albus.

"I didn't actually help with your homework. I just showed you how to use the computer."

"Well, since I wouldn't have been able to complete my assignments without it, you helped me with my homework." Albus held his mirror, using his free hand to pet the ferret curled in his lap, as he sat cross-legged on the sectional beside the window.

"Ah, whatever. You know, now that you have a computer, we can use them to do the same thing as the mirrors."

"Really? How does that work?"

"There's apps and programs that use the computer's camera and let people chat via wireless, or internet."

"Wicked!"

"Hey, Scorpius, how _do_ you think Bella fell over?"

"Well, I know it wasn't me!" Scorpius replied. He rolled onto his back.

"Do you think someone else at Lakeshore could be a wizard?" Albus wondered.

"But why wouldn't they be at Ilvermorny?"

" _We're_ not at Ilvermorny!" Albus pointed out.

"True. Did I tell you that Bella told me Lilac was a witch?"

"She what?" Albus exclaimed, startling Gonçalo, who hissed indignantly before scampering away.

"Lilac denied it when I asked her. Apparently, here witch also means a freak or…outcast, I suppose."

"She could have been lying. After all, you didn't tell her you were a wizard did you?" Albus chased after Gonçalo and placed him in his cage, before opening the window for Fancy.

"Hey! Where'd you go?" Scorpius called out.

"I'm right here." Albus picked up the mirror and carried it to his bed. "I was putting up Gonçalo, and opening the window, so Fancy will be able to get in whenever she comes back."

"Oh ho! Remember Bella's face when she flew in!" Scorpius laughed. Albus joined in.

"Ha ha ha! Priceless! 'Who has an _owl_ for a pet?'" he mimicked chortling.

"She'll get over it," said Scorpius, pulling his shirt over his head. "She's so gaga over you; she'll probably go out and buy one!"

"Merlin's wand! I hope not!" Albus retorted. "Anyway, Tucker has made it quite clear, in no uncertain terms that he has no plans to part ways with her."

"Did he threaten you?" A worried expression crossed Scorpius' face. Albus shrugged.

"What can he do, beat me up?"

"Well, yes, actually!"

"Then I'll have to seriously work on my defensive spells and memory charms. Besides, growing up with James has given me plenty of practice boxing, and dodging bullies. Are you naked?" he raised a brow, holding the mirror more closely.

"Not yet." Scorpius winked. Albus felt his heart skip a beat as he watched Scorpius step away from the mirror, giving more than a view of his torso. The button at his waistband was open.

"Oh, my god!" Albus whispered, averting his eyes.

"In five years, you've never taken a peek? In the lav? While we were dressing?" Albus shook his head. Scorpius laughed. "Well, in the interest of transparency, I did once take a peek at you." Albus gasped.

"You did? When?"

"Third year. I don't think you saw me. I was sitting on my bed with the curtains drawn; only there was a gap. I think you'd spilled something on your robes and came back to change. Anyway, I saw you." Scorpius blushed. "That's when I knew I—I favored wizards to witches."

"Oh," Albus softly replied.

"So, there's that…erm…I suppose I owe you a bit of reciprocity." He slid his zipper down.

"Oh, I—" Albus protest died on his slightly parted lips as he watched Scorpius slowly drawing down his trousers.

* * *

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, shit!" Lilac cried when her mother slammed the refrigerator door, startling her as she entered the house.

"Lilac Snape!" Toviyah Snape sternly admonished her daughter.

"Sorry, Ma." Lilac apologized contritely. "I thought you were asleep."

"Reflux," her mother stated. She unscrewed the top of a bottle of water. "What are you doing outside in your bedclothes, young lady?"

"I was looking for my flash drive. I saved my English homework on it," she lied. Her mother looked at her suspiciously.

"Then why are you carrying that raggedy old thing?" she asked.

"I found it under the seat in Dad's truck. I thought maybe I could repurpose it for a jewelry box or something." Lilac shrugged.

"God knows your heart, Lilac. Sinners will reap what they sow."

"Repent ye therefore, and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out, when the times of refreshing shall come from the presence of the Lord."

"That's very good, my darling." Toviyah sipped her water. "Have you said your prayers?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, before you go to sleep, you ask God to forgive you for your immodesty."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, get moving! It's a school night."

"Yes, ma'am. Goodnight, Ma." Lilac raced up the stairs to her room.

Toviyah went to the window, sipping thoughtfully. She looked across the narrow expanse of yard between the house and garage, where she saw her husband's silhouette behind the drawn window shades.

"You might hide from me, but you cannot shield yourself from the omnipresence of the Lord," she whispered.

* * *

 _Did you guess it? Toviyah is the femine form of Tobias._


	12. Week One

_**Thanks for your patience. It's super hectic here with the holidays. The first week of school has come to a close and our intrepid characters are getting to know new people. Which will be friends, and which will be foes? Note: This is a work of fiction. Tip o' the nib to the great J.K. Rowling for her characters._

* * *

"Ahem…" Albus cleared his throat and licked his lips as he watched Scorpius disrobe. His pale skin appeared ethereal, and he traced a finger over the cool glass of the mirror. "I, erm…" His hand drifted down to the bulge in his crotch, and he sighed softly.

"Are you alright?" Scorpius asked. He picked up his mirror to see the other wizard biting his lip, eyes heavily lidded.

"Yeah," Albus breathed. He slipped his hand into his trousers.

"Albus."

"Wha—yeah—erm…yeah." Albus abruptly sat up and cleared his throat again. "So, erm…I'm gonna go jump in the shower. See you?"

"Er…riiight. Okay, well good night," Scorpius reluctantly replied, feeling suddenly self-conscious. He summoned a night shirt from his dresser.

"Night, Scorpius." Albus blew him a kiss, and closed the mirror compact. "Fucking hell!" he exclaimed breathily, slumping against his pillows.

He rolled onto his stomach, a move he instantly regretted, and quickly pushed himself up. He made his way to the en suite bath, where he turned on the shower and hastily stripped off his clothing. He stood in the spray of warm water and took himself in hand, bracing his other against the wet tile as he relieved the tension below his waist, pressing his lips together in a futile effort to stifle the moan threatening to escape his lips.

"Oh!" he gasped. "Oh, shit! Shit!" he panted with release. Albus quickly washed up and donned pyjamas before brushing his teeth and settling under the covers. He pulled the duvet up to his chin, and the scent of coriander and the balsamic sweet fragrance of frankincense wafted into his nostrils. He closed his eyes and burrowed into the downy bedding, inhaling deeply as he imagined a certain blond who lay just beyond his own domicile borders.

* * *

"How do we even know that he can be trusted?" Frank Mathers eyed the man who leaned casually against the bookshelf in the vestry of Second Salem Church, where a small committee of members was gathered. He returned his scrutiny with a cool gaze.

"You don't," the man replied, pushing away from the shelf. Sinclair Purfield was tall and slim, with wavy golden hair and pointed features that lent him an aristocratic bearing. "I could be a charlatan, here to tempt you with some fancy sleight of hand trickery," he said, his voice bearing a slight southern lilt. "Or…" He waved his hand and the dark blue walls turned to red.

"Oh, my!" one woman exclaimed among the many gasps that went up around the room.

" _I could_ in fact pose a threat to you all." The corner of his mouth curled upward, and he drew his wand.

 _Leviosa!_

He rose suddenly into the air, and the occupants of the room reacted with wonder and shock!

"My God! Mercy! Father Almighty!"

"It's _proof!_ " exclaimed Tarquin. "Magic _does_ exist!"

"Frank! How could you bring this—this _person_ into our midst?" Thom Parris objected loudly. There were murmurs of agreement around him. "He represents the very _evil_ and corrupt beings that our movement seeks to expose and eliminate!"

"And how exactly do you propose to do that?" Sinclair descended, tucking away his wand and crossing his arms. "What powers do _you_ possess that are capable of defending against magic? A witch ball? Prayer Tests? Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us."

"Do you see what I mean?" Thom Parris leapt to his feet. "To be protected from you this magic charm I will do with these words. I bind thee for you to let me be protected from your harm—"

 _Langlock!_ Tom suddenly gasped and fell back into his chair, clutching at his throat, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"My God! Thom! Thom! What's happening to him?" Melissa clapped her husband on the back in a panic.

"Are you serious?" Sinclair chuckled. "No-Maj voodoo does not work against _real_ magic! Relax. He ain't choking."

 _Finite!_

Thom inhaled deeply, as his tongue was unglued from the roof of his mouth.

"Why you—" he lurched forward, but stopped short under the challenging stare that Purfield gave him, and sank back to his seat.

Sinclair placed his hands squarely upon the tabletop and gazed intently at each person seated around it, his silver eyes assessing each countenance, noting the apprehension on each face.

"What you need is an _ally._ You need people like me, wizards and witches who recognize that the proliferation of magic is a blight on proper society. If there is anyone who knows the magicosm, I know it. I know it like I know, not just the lines on my palm, but every square inch of my beautiful body. I _know_ them. I know witches and wizards better than they know themselves because they refuse to be honest about who and what they really are. It's why they hide among you! They have made families such as mine outcasts for choosing to fraternize with you! Why? They fear you! They are still bitter over the persecution your ancestors imposed upon them—the trials, the burnings—after we'd shared our magic with you!" He began to pace the room.

"My father named me Sinclair, which means, bright, clear, _pure._ He gave me this name to remind me always to repent, like Simon, who had dazzled the people of Samaria with his magic, such that they believed him to have the power of God. However, when Philip came and preached the good news of Heaven, even Simon became a believer. He was baptized. He was made pure. It is our duty to safeguard our community against the scourge of magic, and those who would seek to reap destruction and disappear without a trace!" He returned to the head of the table, leaning upon it once more. "I can help you. I can bring the allies you need."

* * *

"Ginny, you have to work this out!" Ron insisted.

"Oh, just shut it, Ron!" Ginny stormed out of the library and headed up the stairs, her brother on her heels. "It's my life and my bloody marriage, and I don't need any advice from you!"

"It sounds to me like that's exactly what you need!" he yelled.

"Fucking, Merlin! I can't believe Hermione told you!" Ginny pushed open the door to the master suite and flicked her wand, summoning a valise from the closet. Another flick of the wand, and clothing began to fly into the suitcase.

"Well, curse me for having a marriage without secrets! And for the record, she didn't tell me, I walked in on your floo call!" He stood in the center of the room with his arms crossed. "Do Mum and Dad know you're getting a divorce?"

"Who said anything about a divorce—and I swear to _GOD,_ Ronald, if you tell Mum, I will turn you into a duck!" she threatened.

"Yeah? Well, maybe I'll risk it! How can you just leave, Ginny? After all that you and Harry have been through—"

"First of all, I'm not leaving. I'm going to Egypt to cover the World Cup. Second—would you fucking look around? _I'm_ the one who's _still here_ , Ron! I didn't run halfway around the world and take our youngest son with me! It's just like he did with you," Ginny muttered. She shrank her suitcase and tucked it into her shoulder bag.

"With me?" He followed her back down to the library.

"I'm _always_ the one who's still here! I'm always waiting for my conquering hero to return! For what? When he is here, he isn't here!" Ginny gathered up fresh parchment and self-writing quills, placing them into a leather folio.

"Ginny—"

"I have to practically Imperious him just to get some intimate affection! He barely even noticed me throwing _obvious_ hints in his face! Do you know, he's more worried about Gordon's feelings for me than how I—" she broke off midsentence.

"Gordon?" Ron gave her a suspicious look. "How Gordon feels? Ginny, what are you— _Merlin's balls!_ Are you having an _affair?_ "

"I—" Ginny kept her back to her brother. She bit her lip, steeling herself for his response.

"Ginevra Molly Weasley-Potter! You _fucking_ cheated on Harry?" Ron bellowed. "Are you out of your _fucking mind?_ "

"Wretched blood-traitors!" screamed Mrs. Black, from behind the veil that covered her portrait. "Have you no respect for a decent home? You and your uncouth caterwauling—"

"Oh, _shut up,_ you wretched _old bat!"_ Ginny spun around, pointing her wand. " _Silencio!_ "

"Who the _fuck_ is—" Ron's eyes grew large. "Wait a minute! You didn't—you _shagged_ Gordon Horton? Gordon fucking Horton, Ginny?"

"Ron—"

"I can't—you fucking _slag!_ "

"What did you call me?" Ginny shrieked.

"You bloody well heard me!" Ron yelled.

" _Furnunculus!_ " she cried. A jet of golden light sprang from her wand. Ron blocked the jinx.

"You unbelievable bitch!" he spat.

"I am your _fucking_ sister!"

"You cheated on my best mate with my fucking _favorite_ player!"

" _That's_ what you care about? I—you—get out of my house, Ronald!" She pointed her wand at him again, her eyes filling with water. "Get the fuck out, before I do something you'll regret!"

"With pleasure!"

Ron disapparated and Ginny sank to the floor, tears pouring from her eyes.

* * *

"…and Potter will start in the second half. Any questions?" Coach Garcia scanned the faces of his players. "Alright then, dismissed. Oye! Parris! You and Stevenson help get the equipment back to storage!" he called out as the boys disbanded, heading for the locker rooms at the end of Friday's practice.

"Not bad, Potter." The dreadlocked boy from his P.E. class clapped Albus on the back.

"Oh, erm, thanks," he replied. "You're er, Belton, right? Jacob?"

"Yeah. You sure you've never played soccer before? You picked it up awfully quick."

"Never. One of my classmates at school in England plays girls' football, and I've attended a few of her matches, but we never had it at our school."

"Well, bro, your moves are like magic!" Jacob exclaimed. "I could swear that you stopped the ball before it even reached you!"

"Heh! No, of course not!" Albus nervously chuckled. "So, erm, you wouldn't happen to be related to Marcus Belton?" he asked, by way of changing the subject as they entered the athletic complex.

"Yeah. That's my brother. You know him?"

"Met him the other day in the orchestra studio."

"Oh, yeah? What instrument do you play?" Jacob opened a locker on the opposite side of the aisle from where Albus fumbled with his lock.

"Oh, I-I don't. I was meeting m-my best mate, erm Scorpius Malfoy."

"Dude! My brother told me about him. His dad's the new maestro! It's all Marcus talks about. 'Maestro Malfoy's the real deal! His son's got a Strad! I'm gonna ask him to join me for Solo and Ensemble.' He's totally in love with your boy—I mean—not like _in love—love_ —just like—well, music is a pretty serious passion for my brother." Jacob pulled a face of embarrassment. They headed for the showers.

"I-I think I know what you mean. Scorpius is pretty impressed with Marcus too. He seems to think Professor Malfoy will choose him to be concertmaster." They entered adjacent stalls.

"Wow! Marcus would totally lose his shit. He loves music more than crew or sailing."

"Yeah? What about you?" Albus asked.

"Meh." Jacob turned off the water. "My interests tend more towards art forms not typically taught in schools."

"Oh?" Albus rinsed and turned off the tap. He grabbed his towel as he exited the shower.

"So what was your old school like?" Jacob asked, ignoring the obvious question in Albus' response. Albus shrugged.

"I dunno. I suppose not much different than here, except for a few special subjects, and no sports."

" _No sports?_ " Jacob pulled on his shoes.

"Well, I mean. W-we didn't have the same type of—"

"Ohh, you mean like you guys played—what's that sport with the funny balls—uhh?"

"Quid—er—cricket!" Albus hastily answered.

"Cricket! Right!"

"Yo, Jake!" They looked up to see Marcus at the end of the row of lockers. "You ready? Hey, you're Scorpius' friend, right? Al…bus?"

"Yeah." Albus sat down on the bench that ran between the banks of lockers, and put on his shoes.

"Jacob told me you'd made the soccer team."

"Garcia's got him starting second half in the game against Elk Valley."

"Cool. We gotta go. I promised Mom that I would help Mémé with the birds. You got a ride, bro?"

"My dad's picking us up." Albus nodded.

"Bet. Scorpius told me you guys are coming to the regatta on Sunday."

"Hopefully. My dad says we can't go until after church." He tightened the laces of his shoe and stood.

"Yeah, I get it. I get it. Our mom can be like that sometimes too. Aight, man. Later."

"Later." Albus watched them go, and retrieved his book bag before securing his locker and turned to exit.

"Well, well, well. Look who it is, bro." Tucker blocked his exit. He was accompanied by Hunter and two other boys whom he didn't know. "Britain's best and brightest, come to teach us how to win at soccer."

"No, _football!_ " Hunter affected an English accent. The group of boys laughed.

"I have to go." Albus attempted to side-step him.

"I thought I told you that Bella was off limits, Potter." Tucker blocked his path again, poking him hard in the shoulder. Albus took a step back to maintain his balance, and pursed his lips.

"Yeah, I got the message loud and clear, Tucker." He gripped the strap of his satchel.

"So, then what's this I hear about you taking her to Elena Gomez' party?" Tucker closed in on him. Albus stood his ground with the taller boy.

"I don't know. I never said I was taking anyone anywhere." He shrugged. "I'm surprised you even had time for gossip, what with your hands full of Callie Jones' tits," he muttered. Albus made to move around him once again.

"Dafuq you just say to me, bitch?" Tucker grabbed him by the arm, when suddenly the lights overhead popped with a blinding white light, startling the teens, who shielded their eyes.

"Argh! Shit!" Tucker cried out, releasing Albus. "What the _fuck?_ " He held his hand, pacing with his face screwed up in pain.

"What the hell was that?" Hunter exclaimed.

"Potter fuckin' electrocuted me, man!" Tucker screamed.

"Shit!" Albus cursed under his breath, backing towards the door.

"Everyone alright?" Coach Garcia jogged into the locker room. "I think the electrical panel blew. Use that door; I don't want anybody touching anything, in case you're wet." He pointed to the open door which he'd just passed through.

"Parris got shocked when he patted Potter on the back!" Hunter lied.

"Lemme see." The coach rushed to examine Tucker's hand. "Potter, you alright?" he asked. "Potter?"

* * *

Albus sprinted out of the gymnasium and kept running until he reached the main entrance. He found Scorpius and Lilac sitting on the front steps.

"Hey, Albus." Lilac smiled.

"Hey." Scorpius noted the strained expression on his face. "Is everything alright?" he asked.

"Y-yeah. Erm. Yeah. Fine. There's Dad." He pointed to the Land Rover turning into the parking lot.

"Hi, guys. Where's Draco?" Harry asked.

"He had a meeting," Scorpius replied.

"Ah, right. Well, I've got to get back to the shop for a while. You're welcome to come along if you like. Who's your friend?"

"Oh, this is Lilac," said Albus. "Is it alright if she comes too?"

"Sure. Hop in."

"Wooow!" Lilac exclaimed a few minutes later, when they entered the shop. "This is amazing!" She let out a gasp, and ran to the counter, gazing at the myriad glass jars, on the apothecary shelves. "You have dried Mandragora root! I'll have to let my dad know. He always complains about ordering them by mail."

Harry, Albus and Scorpius stared at her in surprise.

"Did I say something wrong?" she asked, nervously.

"Ah, no. I-I just don't know too many young people who are able to immediately identify Mandrake root, particularly by its plant genus. I'm impressed."

"Oh, well, my dad is kinda into herbal remedies and stuff," Lilac shrugged. "Drives my mom crazy. She insists that it's potion-making and ma—I mean—un-Christian." She admired the flower display. "Dad swears by it though."

"Right." Harry nodded, giving her a smile. "Well, tell him to drop by any time. Al, why don't you show Scorpius and Miss…"

"Snape. Lilac Snape."

"Er…Snape…right. Sh-show Lilac the physic garden." Harry struggled to maintain his composure, just as the bell sounded at the door.

"Right. C'mon." Albus led Lilac and Scorpius through the doorway at the end of the counter, and Harry turned his attention to the customer who had just entered.

She was a mature black woman with a striking mane of silver hair that framed her face in a halo of tight coils. She glided across the room, her full, gauzy skirt swishing about her ankles as she moved.

"Good afternoon. How may I help you?"

"Hi. What are the odds that _you_ would happen to have any fresh dittany of Crete?" the woman asked with a smile. She leaned casually over the counter, her wooden bracelets clinking against the polished countertop.

"Well, madam, I think the odds might be very good. Are you seeking fresh or dried dittany?" Harry asked, smiling back at her.

"You have it _fresh?_ " The woman's eyes grew large.

"Oh, yes. I grow it on the back wall. It gets the best light." He led her outside.

"A physic garden! Oh!" she exclaimed. "Ma mère had one in the corner of our yard when I was a little girl. She used to say, 'Ne faites jamais confiance à un apothicaire que vous n'avez pas rencontré.' Never trust an apothecary you haven't met!" The woman gave him a conspiratorial wink.

* * *

 _Sinclair Purfield...will he have the allies Second Salem is looking for? Who is the mysterious woman looking for dittany?_


	13. The Book of Revelation

Draco gazed at the mobile phone in his hand in mesmerized confusion as he absently followed Harry from the electronics retailer into the neighboring Starbucks.

"So, I can talk to anyone anywhere with this device?" he asked as they sat.

"If they have a phone, yes. You can even video chat with others, if you have an app."

"Video chat? What's an app?" Draco asked. He sipped his espresso. "Ugh! What sort of vile potion is this?"

Harry rolled his eyes and explained the features of the smart phone, demonstrating them to Draco.

"…and the _Sepio Fluctus_ charm protects it as well," Harry said.

"So, this video chat-thing is like a floo call?" Draco asked.

"Essentially, but of course, you can't use it to travel, or to pass objects to the other person. If you want to be able to keep up with Scorpius, it's invaluable. And, these apps connect to your online accounts like your email, and even certain files on your computer. It's very convenient. I can even use Bluetooth to connect to my car, so I don't have to take my eyes off the road to send and receive messages and calls."

"Oh, yes! A car, that's next on the list. Now, how do I go about obtaining one of those?"

"Shouldn't you learn to drive first?" Harry asked.

"Well, I'd think it would be necessary to _own_ an automobile in order to learn, yes?" Draco discarded his cup. "After all, won't Scorpius be in need of one for his driving class?"

"Ah, no. That's not exactly how it works," Harry replied. He tossed back the last dregs of his latte, and tossed his cup. "To be perfectly honest, I'd have to look into the American requirements for a license, as they differ a bit from the UK." He lowered his voice as they exited the coffee bar. "I conjured my documentation with a little help from Muggle Liaison and MACUSA Wizarding Relations." He unlocked the SUV.

As Draco pulled open the door of the vehicle to climb in, he heard a loud rumble and looked back just in time to see a figure sitting astride a two-wheeled contraption as it roared down the boulevard past the shopping center.

"Draco?"

"What was that?" Draco asked, his voice filled with wonder.

"A motorbike."

"He rode it like a broom!"

"Well, yeah. I suppose you could say that," Harry replied. "Sirius had one."

"Oh, _that's_ the thing Mother spoke of!" Draco exclaimed, finally tearing his attention away from the motorcyclist, who'd since disappeared around the bend. "She'd said that of all the muggle ideas he'd embraced, Aunt Walburga was most distressed by the horrid, noisy contraption he began riding instead of a broom."

"Yeah. I guess she would be." Harry nodded. He started the engine of the Land Rover, and thought back to the Triumph motorcycle which had first delivered him to, then finally spirited him away from Number 4 Privet Drive, and was currently stored in a shrunken state on a bookshelf in his study at Grimmauld Place.

* * *

"Well, I think she _is,_ " said Albus.

"Just because she knows mandrake root when she sees it?" Scorpius levitated a tray of screechsnap seedlings onto the long table in the center of the hidden greenhouse at Pomona Nursery. "By the way, thanks _a lot_ for getting us stuck with Herbology assignments… _on a Saturday._ "

"Oh, quit whining. As soon as our dads get back we can go swimming. And for the record, I think immediately recognizing mandrake root is a pretty good indicator that someone is a witch," Albus replied. He carefully scooped dragon dung over his own tray of seedlings, and the small plants purred with pleasure.

"Well, if she _is_ a witch—and I'm not saying that she is—I wonder why she isn't attending Ilvermorny." Scorpius cast a water-making spell, and a light stream of water flowed from the tip of his wand as he moved it over his plants.

"She said her mum thinks it's bad. My guess is that she must be a muggle."

They carefully placed their seedlings on a table with a tray of mature screechsnap, and cleaned up their work area before heading back into the main greenhouse.

"I honestly can't imagine why anyone would want to marry a muggle," Scorpius mused.

"Scorpius!"

"Well, I only mean, why be with someone that you have to hide from? It seems such a waste."

"I suppose I could see your point." Albus shrugged. "Still, you can't help who you love. It's like Teddy's parents—or his grandparents."

" _My_ parents," said Scorpius.

"Or mine," Albus muttered. They sat on a bench in the garden and watched the waterlilies dancing on the surface of the giant cauldron. He sighed. Scorpius put his arm around him.

"Your parents love each other, Albus. All of the stories talk of how your mother leapt into your father's arms when he returned to the castle during the war."

"Yeah, I know all that. People never stop talking about it, but it doesn't change the fact that Mum cheated on Dad. She isn't here with us. She'd rather stay in England. She didn't even apologize for what she did!"

"How do you know that? You're not privy to all of your parents' conversations."

"Then why did she get angry when Dad told her that he knew? She didn't apologize; she yelled at him and said it was his fault. If you can figure out a way to explain how that's love, then I'm all ears."

Scorpius gave Albus a squeeze, and kissed the side of his head. Albus rested his head on his shoulder.

"I wish I had an answer for that, love, but maybe things will work out." Scorpius stroked Albus' messy dark hair, and Albus wrapped his arms about his waist. He inhaled the scent of orange, lime and clove with a hint of bay.

"You smell nice." He lightly brushed his nose along the side of the other wizard's neck.

"Erm, thanks, I…" Scorpius shuddered. He turned his head slightly, exposing the length of his neck. "I b-blended the s-scent my—ahh—my-myself," he stammered breathlessly. "I-I c-can make you som-some..."

"I'd like that," Albus whispered as he kissed beneath his ear.

"Ohhh, Merlinnnn!" Scorpius moaned. He turned to Albus, cupping his face in hand and began to kiss him deeply. The two young wizards became lost in one another, oblivious to the faint tinkling of the shop's bell.

"Hello? Is anyone—oh, _hello!_ "

* * *

The body of the bike was matte black; with ghostly, smoke grey Indian Head tank badges and gleaming gloss finish details. The overall aesthetic was sinister, and reminded Draco of the racing brooms he'd flown as part of Slytherin's Quidditch team. He circled the motorcycle slowly, as the salesman happily itemized the machine's specifications.

"This baby is loaded with all of the features you want: ABS, Cruise Control, and Keyless Ignition. _Plus,_ this model has a _heated_ two-up seat with individual controls, so you and a passenger can ride in comfort, no matter the weather."

"Too bad it doesn't fly," Harry murmured.

"Oh, she flies alright," the salesman replied.

"What?" Draco tore his attention away from the handstitched leather saddle, and stared at the man.

"You kidding? This one has our award-winning 111 V-twin engine. It puts out 119 foot pounds of raw torque, which means you have _serious_ passing power, no matter what gear you're in."

"Well, I guess that would make it the closest thing you'd get to flying without ever leaving the ground," Harry retorted, giving Draco a pointed look. Draco responded with an expression that let him know he understood the machine didn't actually fly.

"So, you wanna take her out for a spin?" he asked.

* * *

"Shit!"

"Lilac!" Albus and Scorpius leapt apart, eyeing her apprehensively. Scorpius' hand went immediately into his pocket, but Albus grabbed his wrist to stop him drawing his wand.

"I _wondered_ if there was something between the two of you," she grinned, sauntering along the path and dropping onto the bench they'd just vacated. "So, how long have you been together?"

"Lilac, you _can't_ tell anyone!" Albus pleaded. "Our parents don't know, and—"

" _Relax_ , Al!" She waved dismissively. "Your secret's safe with me. Like I told, Scorp when we first met, the closet's my comfort zone too."

"Huh?" Scorpius gaped at her.

"I think she means nobody knows she's a lesbian," said Albus.

"Oh, right. Right." Scorpius chuckled nervously.

"Didn't mean to startle you. I did call out when I walked in. You shouldn't leave the shop unattended like that. People _do_ steal in Greyswood, you know."

"It's not completely unprotected. My dad has a rather sophisticated security plan, actually," Albus replied.

"I can tell. Your boy went for his pocket so fast, I thought he was about to shoot," She laughed. "What is that anyway, a knife?"

"No!" Albus exclaimed.

"Wait—" Scorpius cried, but she was too fast for him. Her fingers closed around the hilt, and she pulled. Scorpius grabbed the shaft. Lilac gasped and released the wand, taking a step back. "Lilac—"

"You're a wizard?"

"I—"

"Wait—how do you—" Albus and Scorpius stared at her anew.

"You _are_ a witch!" Scorpius exclaimed. "You said Bella didn't—"

"Bella's a stupid No-Maj, who doesn't know shit!" Lilac retorted. The two wizards warily drew back. "Sorry. It's just…I wish my dad would let me carry my wand." Her shoulders slumped and she gazed wistfully at the rowan wand still clutched in Scorpius' hand.

"Then it wasn't _you_ who made her fall over the other day?" Albus asked. He looked at Scorpius.

"Oh, that _was_ me. Fucking cow!" Albus and Sirius laughed.

The three teens retreated from the heat and into the main shop where they found snacks in the break room.

"Mama's a No-Maj, and Daddy's afraid to tell her about us. She's totally conservative. Thinks everything's a sin. No jewelry, no piercings, no popular music, no sex, no movies—"

"No movies?" Albus stared incredulously.

"If she knew I was drinking a pop right now, I'd be grounded. She nearly had a coronary when I dyed my hair. She's not too keen on my wearing shorts or rowing crew, but Dad said he wasn't raising a Puritan."

"No fizzy drinks?" Scorpius' eyes grew large.

"Is that what you call them in England?" she chuckled.

"Ah, no. Typically we call them soft drinks, or by brand name. Fizzy drinks can also refer to drinks with alcohol. Some of the adults call it pop. Scorpius is a pure-blood. He doesn't really know much about the muggle world."

"Muggle? Oh, No-Maj! Really? So, you're like a separatist?"

"What's that?" they asked.

"There's not very many separatist communities any more. Those are witches and wizards who choose not to consort with No-Majs. It's mostly older people, who grew up under Rappaport's Law."

"It's kind of like that," said Albus. "Things have changed a bit since the end of the war though."

"The war?" Lilac looked at him curiously. Albus and Scorpius looked at one another.

"That's why she doesn't know who you are!" Scorpius pointed out.

"Are you _famous?_ "

"Well, it's a long story and—"

"Al! Scorpius! We're back!" Harry called out. "Did you finish your—oh, hello, Lilac." Harry smiled.

"Hi, Mr. Potter. Maestro."

"Did you buy me a mobile phone?" Scorpius asked, noting the bag in Draco's hand. He leapt to his feet, but stopped short, taking in the motorcycle leathers his father wore and the helmet in his hand. "Father, what on earth are you wearing?"

"Your father has purchased a motorbike, Scorpius," said Harry, a hint of derision in his voice.

"Really? Is it like yours, Dad?" Albus' eyes lit up.

" _You_ have a motorbike?" Draco gave Harry a sideways glance. Harry shrugged with a slight grin.

"I might have inherited Sirius' bike," he said.

* * *

The bell sounded, and Harry hurried out into the shop. Melissa Parris was accompanied by a handsome Black woman, who was gazing about the shop with curiosity.

"Melissa! Hi! I have the arrangements all ready for you," he said. "Back in a tick." He went to the storage coolers and returned with a large vented box. "Here we are!" He opened the top flaps and held the back for her to examine the flower arrangement. Melissa let out a gasp.

"Oh, it's _gorgeous!_ Theresa, look!" she waved the other woman over. "Harry, this is Theresa Belton. She and her husband joined Second Salem, what? About a year ago now?"

"Yes. Oh, that is lovely!" Theresa declared. "You did this?"

"I did."

"You know what? We should have Harry do the flower arrangements for the Homecoming Ball."

"Oh, well, I-I'm flattered—"

"You keep this up, and you'll put Nature's First right out of business!" Melissa gushed. "Theresa is the head of the planning committee this year."

"I see." Harry nodded, staring at her in bemused amusement.

"Oh, I'm just going on and on!" she exclaimed. "I'm sure you're ready to close for the day, and Theresa has barely gotten a word in edgewise. I hope to see y'all Sunday!" Melissa carefully took the box and exited the shop. Harry and the other woman watched her go.

"She's something, huh?" Theresa smiled.

"I'll say. So, what can I help you with?"

"I am hoping that you have fresh Chinese Chomping Cabbage," she said, leaning upon the counter with a smile.

"I-I'm sorry, what?" Harry looked at her in confusion.

"It's a plant," she stated matter-of-factly.

"I'm afraid I've never heard of it," he shrugged helplessly.

"Shame that." The woman touched the corner of her eye before lightly tugging her earlobe. "Well, maybe you have knotgrass?" She raised a brow.

Harry touched the wand in his pocket, securing the entrances and casting a privacy spell. He tugged his earlobe and touched the corner of his eye.

"How did you know I was here?" he asked.

"The whole world knows who you are, Potter." Theresa placed a triangular card on the countertop, and it opened into a rectangular business card with her credentials.

 _Teresa K. Belton, Deputy U.S. Auror_

 _Kansas District_

"Dammit! I told them it would be too obvious," Harry swore.

"Actually, no." A newspaper appeared in her hand. She passed it to him.

"So, I've taken a sabbatical in contemplation of retirement. Makes sense, I suppose."

"Dad!" Albus burst into the showroom. "When are we going? You promised we could go swim—oh. I'm, sorry. I didn't know there was—"

"If you and your friends will go water the plants in the garden, we can go as soon as I am finished here."

"Yes, sir." Albus disappeared the way he came.

"Sorry." Harry smiled.

"No problem. I have two boys of my own. I think they know your son. He plays soccer right?"

"Yeah. First time. I'm right chuffed about it." Harry's smile grew wider.

"Jacob, my youngest is on the team. Marcus, he's older. He rows crew. He's also in the orchestra." She raised a brow.

"I hadn't the faintest idea that they were coming. Has he given himself away?" Harry asked, his voice low.

"Actually no, but the family is on our watch list. To be honest, it's the father who is of greater concern."

"Well, as I understand it, he and the old man aren't exactly on good terms. I doubt there will be any multi-generational family reunions any time soon."

"From what I've read, I wouldn't have thought the two of you to be friends," she said.

"We weren't but the boys have been close ever since they started school. You know how those things go, and as fate would have it, he purchased the house next door to mine. I've given him a little information about the situation. It seemed a wise choice in the interest of safety. I'm doing my best to keep an eye on things and help him to adapt. He's never had contact with muggles before." Harry waved his wand and a watering can began to move about the displays of live flowers. "So, why aren't your boys at Ilvermorny? If you don't mind me asking."

"Ilvermorny's a good school. I went there, but there's a growing trend among American wizards towards No-Maj integration. We provide our kids' magical education through homeschooling, and send them to regular schools for the basics. Also, the kids just didn't want to go. They've grown up in this community, and didn't want to be so far away from home, so we let them stay." She shrugged. The side door opened, and Draco stepped through. "So, you have my card, and here's our color and décor scheme. Give me a call, and we can talk about cost and ideas." She retrieved a folder from her handbag and placed it on the counter. "By the way," Theresa lowered her voice. "My mom is so excited to have found a local supplier of fresh dittany." She winked.

"I'll give you a call early next week with an estimate," Harry smiled.

"You appear to be making your mark," Draco commented, approaching the counter.

"Looks that way." Harry nodded.

"Now, about that motorbike…"

* * *

The present members of the Second Salem Church looked on curiously, as the four visitors each genuflected upon entering the worship center's sanctuary, and light murmurs went up around.

"Are they catholic?" someone whispered.

"Well, they're English. Don't the Anglicans do that too?" murmured someone else.

"Oh, hi!" Melissa Parris sailed up the center aisle with her arms outstretched. "We're so glad you all decided to join us! Let me introduce you around!"

"Oh, kill me now," Albus muttered, as they followed their fathers into the throng of parishioners.

"What—oh, Merlin!" Scorpius concurred, following his gaze, to see Bella and her parents headed in their direction.

"Yo, Scorp! Al!" They turned and saw Marcus and Jacob waving to them from the balcony.

"Erm, Father?"

"Yes, son?" Draco looked over his shoulder.

"May we sit with our friends?"

"Please, Dad?" Albus tapped Harry on the shoulder.

As they settled in with the Belton Brothers, Albus saw Lilac enter a pew below with her parents. He waved to her, and Scorpius motioned for her to join them. She shook her head apologetically and pointed to her mother before sitting down between her parents.

The service commenced with a call to worship, consisting of sentences selected from the Scriptures. They then stood for the prayer of confession, followed by a metrical psalm of praise. Thom Parris stepped up to the pulpit and opened his bible.

"Read with me. Leviticus nineteen, verses thirty through thirty-seven. And it reads: 'Ye shall keep my Sabbaths, and reverence my sanctuary: I am the Lord. Regard not them that have familiar spirits, neither seek after wizards, to be defiled by them: I am the Lord your God. Thou shalt rise up before the hoary head, and honour the face of the old man, and fear thy God: I am the Lord. And if a stranger sojourn with thee in your land, ye shall not vex him. But the stranger that dwelleth with you shall be unto you as one born among you, and thou shalt love him as thyself; for ye were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your shall do no unrighteousness in judgment, in meteyard, in weight, or in measure. Just balances, just weights, a just ephah, and a just hin, shall ye have: I am the Lord your God, which brought you out of the land of Egypt. Therefore shall ye observe all my statutes, and all my judgments, and do them: I am the Lord.'" He closed the book with a snap and stepped down.

The congregation joined in a hymn and the minister led a prayer of intercession.

"Amen." The assembly joined at the close of the prayer.

"The Old Testament prophet Daniel was put in charge of the Magi of Babylon. That's when there was a noticeable shift in how the Magi of Babylon worked. They operated more like a priestly order, became monotheistic. That means that they worshiped one God, and even sacrificed animals for their sin. Daniel no doubt turned them to depend upon God for their powers. The three wise men bowed before Jesus, and Daniel was clear that he could interpret dreams by God's power, not his." Frank Mathers preached.

Albus slouched on the hard wooden bench. Why had his father roused him from a perfectly good Sunday lie in for this?

* * *

"Deuteronomy 18:10 teaches us thus: 'There must not be found among you anyone who is doing detestable things.' Magic is a _deception!_ It is a lie! A falsehood which brings glory to the magician, not God! There is no deception which can be wrapped in dressings and made to be beautiful. Magic makes the magician seem powerful while at the same time allowing him to glorify himself in the eyes of others. No one deserves glory but the Creator and His Son! It is why I stand before you today and urge you _not_ to allow any magic to be a corruption in our communities!"

Draco squared his shoulders and lifted his chin, a well-practiced scowl forming on his face, as his eyes shifted to the man seated beside him. Harry barely nudged Draco's knee with his own.

* * *

"Are you _kidding_ me?" Scorpius whispered, crossing his arms.

The sermon went on for what seemed an eternity, and Albus and Scorpius found themselves amazed at their peers' ability to sit quietly on the uncomfortable pews. They were disconcerted by the condemnation of their very nature and being.

"They seek to exercise power over other people, to influence them to do something they wouldn't do otherwise, or to get knowledge that isn't humanly available. It is our responsibility to expose these—these— _wizards! These witches!_ We must protect our children from their nefarious influences, for they are among the fruits of the flesh which are outlined in the book of Galatians- sexual immorality, impurity, sensuality, idolatry, sorcery, enmity, strife, jealousy, fits of anger, rivalries, dissensions, divisions, envy, drunkenness and orgies!" he shouted.

* * *

Harry rolled his eyes. He could not believe that these people were real.

"Modern Christians will attempt to debate the matter of sorcery. They will tell you that it is legend, that the original accusers of Salem were only out to settle personal vendettas, that magic is not real. I stand before you and say that it is _indeed real!_ I have seen it with my own eyes! It is an evil! A sin! And those who practice such things without repenting will _absolutely_ be evermore separated from the Lord and cast into the lake of fire with no hope of repentance and forgiveness ever again! God condemns such things because they are a gateway to the wicked spirits of darkness and those who participate in and practice such things, as Paul wrote, _'will not inherit the kingdom of God.'"_

He paused and took a sip of water from a glass below the podium before he spoke again.

"Let us stand." There was a shuffling of bodies as the congregants got to their feet. Albus resisted the urge to yawn and stretch. "Heed ye the word," said the minister.

"Then blind eyes will open, deaf ears will hear," the congregation chorused, and the service concluded with a final hymn.

* * *

"You think that's what she meant about her mom?" Albus quietly mused as he and Scorpius waved goodbye to their parents and made their way towards the community pavilion which sat a few yards from the shoreline.

"She did look rather severe," said Scorpius. "Kind of reminded me of Headmistress McGonagall with that tight bun and high collar."

"Yeah. Shh! There she is! Hiya, Lilac!" Albus called out to her with a smile.

"Hey, guys. Wow, your dad has a motorcycle too? That's so badass!" she remarked. They turned and watched the two riding towards the park's exit.

"Yeah. He almost never rides it," said Albus. "In fact, this is the first time he's ever let me ride with him."

"I didn't expect to see you guys in church this morning," she said as they turned and headed towards the crowd gathered along the shoreline.

"Apparently, Dad was invited by Mr. Parris," Albus frowned.

"And Father decided that it had been far too long since we'd attended mass—although I've never been to a service such as that before. Do you not celebrate the Eucharist?"

"Yeah, but not like Catholics—are you catholic? Anyway, we don't take communion every week."

"Oh. Anyway, I'm sorry about this morning. My mama insists that the family always sits together for worship. I did tell you how she can be."

"Does your minister always preach like that?" Albus asked, lowering his voice. "How does he know that magic is real?"

"I don't know. He talks a lot about magic, but never like that. It kind of freaked me out!" she admitted. "I know that the NSPS has been meeting a lot lately."

"What's the NSPS?" asked Scorpius.

"The New Salem Philanthropic Society," she said, a worried look on her face. "That's the parent body of Second Salem. Only those who have been admitted to the church may become members. They hand out pamphlets and go door-to-door to witness to people and try to get them to join."

"Looks like a success," Albus remarked. "There must have been at least seven or eight hundred people there."

"Yeah, but that's why my dad won't let me—"

"Yo, wassup, peeps?" Marcus and Jacob joined them. "Everybody's watching the races, and y'all standin' over here like you finna get up to no good."

"Just talking about Pastor Frank's sermon," said Lilac.

"Dude went in, didn't he?" Jacob commented.

"Into what?" asked Scorpius. Marcus laughed.

"You crack me up, my dude!"

"The women's straight four will commence in five minutes. All boats to the pier at this time." An announcement rang out over a loudspeaker. A dark-skinned girl approached the group. She wore a white halter top and matching shorts with sandals, her long braids pulled back into a ponytail.

"Y'all know Michaela?" Marcus pulled her close, one hand about her waist.

"Yeah," said Lilac.

"Hello," said Albus.

"Pleasure to meet you." Scorpius gave her a bow.

"Aw! You're so cute!" she cooed.

"We ready?" Marcus asked. She nodded and pointed towards the trees. "Cool. Aight, c'mon, y'all." He started in the direction that Michaela had pointed.

"Where are we going?" asked Albus. He hesitated.

"To get up to no good." Marcus smiled mischievously.

* * *

Harry brought his motorcycle to a stop beside the sidecar he'd left parked in the garage, and killed the engine. He removed his helmet and dismounted the bike. In the motor court, Draco did the same, shaking out his platinum hair. Harry licked his lips.

"I think I thoroughly enjoyed that!" Draco exclaimed. "It isn't quite flying, but the sensation is quite close."

"I haven't attempted to fly mine since it was repaired," said Harry. He closed the garage door and made his way to the porch. They entered the house through a side door.

"I thought motorcycles don't fly." Draco followed him into the kitchen, accepting a beer, and perching on a stool at the island counter with a look of confusion.

"They don't. Sirius charmed his to fly."

"Really? How thrilling!" he declared. Harry chuckled.

"It's not so thrilling when you're being chased by a squad of death eaters." Harry sipped his beer.

"No, I suppose not," Draco replied, thoughtfully. He sipped his own lager. "You know, I've never been any real distance from Scorpius in his entire life, except when he was away at school."

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me," Harry replied.

"It feels a bit unsettling."

"Well, before you know it, he'll be seventeen and looking to strike out on his own," said Harry. "To be perfectly honest, I was more than a little apprehensive about James beginning his seventh year. It seems like yesterday that the midwife placed him in my arms. He was mewling like a freshly plucked mandrake!" he laughed. Draco chuckled.

"The whole pregnancy—even the delivery—was so risky, I feared I would lose them both in the process. Astoria was so weak that it fell to me to care for him in those first critical days. I don't know how I managed it. I was afraid even to sleep!"

"You must be nearly addicted to Wideye Potion."

"I must say, it took some effort to wean myself of its effects without resorting to Draught of Peace."

Harry's phone buzzed on the counter. He glanced at it and saw Ron's name pop up, but turned the phone face down without answering it.

"I can go, if you need to attend to that."

"It's just Ron, I can call him later."

"That, erm…that sermon—"

"It was definitely…unsettling, to say the least," said Harry.

"Indeed!" Draco agreed. "I don't know whether to be insulted or frightened. Is this the movement of which you spoke the other night?"

"It appears to be that way. Draco, I would warn you to be very careful. It appeared that some very influential members of the community here were present in that church this morning."

"I did notice that. Should we warn the boys?"

"I don't think they need to know the details. I could tell that they were affected by Mather's rhetoric, and they already know to respect the Statute of Secrecy."

"Well, Albus does," Draco scoffed.

"Oh, come on, now. I think Scorpius has learned his lesson."

* * *

Albus and Scorpius trailed behind Marcus and the others, following them down a worn path that led into the trees. A few yards in, they reached a clearing.

"What's going on?" Lilac asked.

"Don't worry," Marcus assured them, handing each a bottle of water. "We're just here to invite you to a very special gathering."

"Shit!" Albus swore when the bottle in his hand began to vibrate.

"No!" Scorpius cried.

Seconds later, cries of _Arresto Momentum_ rang out through the space, and the teens landed on the rickety planked floor of a derelict boathouse. Slivers of sunlight shone through gaps in the walls and ceiling, piercing the space like blades.

"Come out, come out wherever you are!" Marcus sang. Out of the shadows emerged another girl who appeared to be close to their age. Albus and Scorpius gripped their wands tightly.

"What the hell?" Lilac shrieked.

"It's cool, girl!" Jacob insisted.

"You're _wizards?_ " Albus asked in astonishment.

"Guess nothing gets past him, huh?" the new girl remarked.

"Everybody, this is Sofia Calderon. She goes to GHS," said Marcus. He flicked his wand and lanterns hanging from the rafters sprang to life, illuminating the dark boathouse.

"You look just like your dad," she said.

"What the _hell_ is going on?" Lilac demanded.

"Kevin Tanberg is missing," said Michaela.

"Who's Kevin Tanberg?" asked Scorpius.

"How do you know?" asked Lilac.

"How did you know we were wizards?" Albus asked.

"Who's Kevin Tanberg?" Scorpius asked again.

"Oh, my god!" Sofia exclaimed. "Marcus! What did you do—just snatch them off the street?" She conjured a steamer chair and stretched out. "Don't you even know who his dad is?"

"Your mom's gonna kill you guys," said Michaela. She conjured a table and chairs, and gestured for them to sit. Sofia remained in her chaise longue.

"Okay, I'm sorry for freaking you guys out. I thought Maestro was very familiar, so I looked him up in a book my parents had about the War in Britain. I wondered if something was up. And then when we saw your dad, we knew for sure."

"I'm lost," said Albus.

"Me too," added Scorpius. "You knew all along that we were wizards? What about Lilac?"

"I can see it in her aura," said Jacob. "She radiates repressed magical energy. If you're not careful, you will become an obscurus."

"We were wondering if your dad is here because of the disappearances," said Sofia.

"What disappearances?" asked Albus.

"I think he means this Tanberg bloke they were talking about," said Scorpius.

"Not just Tanberg," said Marcus. "Two whole families went missing in Wichita, and so did a girl in Elk Valley."

"I-I don't know why my dad is here. He didn't say what type of job he had. He-he's running a nursery."

"Are you sure it's not just a front?" Michaela gave them a hard look.

"What exactly are you saying?" Scorpius asked defensively, returning her hard stare.

"Scorpius—"

"You think someone's hunting witches and wizards," Lilac blurted. "And Second Salem is encouraging it."


	14. Liebesträume

_Once again, I must apologize for the long delay. Things have grown quite busy in my real world-rehearsals, holidays, and new work projects. This one is very short, but we've been building up to it for awhile now. Enjoy, and Happy Holidays!_

* * *

Harry vanished the now-empty beer bottles, and they moved to the family room. A soft gong sounded just as they sat.

"Harry, are you there, mate?" Ron's voice came from the fireplace, just as the low embers flared with green flames. Harry went to the hearth and knelt on the floor.

"Listen, Ron. Do you mind if we talk later? Now isn't a good time."

"I know what happened, Harry. What the hell? Why didn't you tell me that Ginny slept with—?"

" _Ron!_ It's not a good time!" Harry snapped. "I'll floo later!"

"Harry—"

" _Later._ " Harry got to his feet and pointed his wand at the fireplace, sealing the floo. He raked his hands through his hair and let out a long sigh.

"I—erm," Draco began uncomfortably. "I don't mind leaving if you need to—"

"It's fine, really. I erm—I'm just not quite ready to discuss the whole situation with Ron right now." He moved back towards the kitchen with purpose. "Would you like another beer? Whisky?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you." Draco got to his feet. "Erm, Harry. I…I don't mean to pry, but—well it was rather hard not to overhear—" Harry stopped walking, but did not turn to face him.

"Yes, Ginny and I are having some marital difficulties," he said.

"Oh. I, erm—I'm sorry to hear that. Weasley said—" Draco shoved his hands into his pockets, unsure of how to proceed. Harry turned around.

"She slept with Gordon Horton. They've been having an affair for some time, and I saw them together at James' junior quidditch match." He threw his hands up with a shrug.

"Merlin!" Draco exclaimed. "Everyone touted your relationship as a fairy tale romance to rival the royals. What have you—I mean—is that why she didn't come with you?" he asked. "No—never mind. That was insensitive of me." He summoned his helmet from the counter where he'd left it. "I should go. I'm sure you'd like some time to—"

"No." Harry grabbed his arm as he passed. "Stay. At this point, you're probably the only person I know with the ability to look at this entire situation objectively. Everyone else will simply take sides. I—please stay."

"Well, if you're certain. I don't want to—"

"Please." Harry started for the refrigerator, but changed his mind, turning instead to a shelf in the butler's pantry. "I think I need something a bit stronger." He retrieved a bottle of scotch and a glass. "You?" he offered.

"Maybe just two fingers," Draco replied. Harry poured them each a measure, dropping a couple of ice cubes in each.

They carried their drinks out to the porch, where they perched at the outdoor bar. They drank in contemplative silence for a few moments before Harry finally spoke.

"I'm not certain what happened," he began. "I love Ginny. She's smart, beautiful, independent, but…things aren't the same anymore." He sipped his drink.

"Boredom?" Draco asked. He swirled the liquid in his glass.

"No, I—don't you think I might have been the one to stray, if that was the case?"

"Infidelity isn't always sexual, Potter. It isn't always about being with another person." Harry gave him a look. Draco sipped his scotch before he continued. "Father was so obsessed with his quest for power that he tended to take Mother completely for granted. He thought that spending exorbitant amounts of gold would keep her happy."

"Ginny complained that I'm too caught up in being the hero to give her the affection that she wanted. I didn't think that was true—no, I know that isn't true. I—" Harry sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. "I don't know if it even makes sense, but—" He paused again, struggling to find the words to describe what he felt.

"What is it?" Draco asked.

"It's just that I—I don't think…I'm not attracted to her anymore," he confessed.

"Really?" Draco looked at him curiously.

"I know it sounds stupid. Ginny's gorgeous, right? She's fit, and she still commands attention whenever she enters a room. I just—it doesn't make sense to me." Harry swallowed the last dregs of his scotch.

"Is there…perhaps…"

"There's no one else. Maybe it would be easier if there was. Things would make sense. I—I just—the thing is…I hadn't even noticed we'd drifted apart. She was always late; missing dates…I didn't even care. One night, maybe a few weeks ago, she came home _reeking_ of his cologne. I just asked her to wash up before she came to bed. When it all came out, I didn't chase her when she left. Even my attempt to reconcile was half-hearted." Harry swiped his hands over his face and let out a sigh. "I just wish I could make sense of it all."

He left his perch at the bar and crossed the lawn, settling on the low stone wall at the top of the first garden, looking out at the water below. Draco watched him before he tossed back the last swallow of his whiskey and went to join him. The pair sat in silence, watching the watercraft as it passed.

"My parents married because their families brokered it to ensure continued pureblood nobility. If you asked me whether they love one another, I'd be hard-pressed to answer in the affirmative. Mother did her duty and provided Father with an heir. She stood by his side when it was required of her, and presented the face of an aristocratic family—we both did. There wasn't much in the way of affection shared in our household."

"My only impression of a loving relationship is the Weasleys. Arthur and Molly would die for one another, and they would _destroy_ anyone who dared harm one of their children."

"As I recall, that is how Auntie Bella met her end." Draco chuckled mirthlessly. Harry grimaced faintly.

"I wanted our marriage to be like that. I thought it was. I don't know. The first few years, we did our best to be together; what with me in Auror training, and my rookie year and Ginny with the Harpies. Now, I wonder if we weren't putting on a face for the public—there _was_ always a camera there wherever we went—our wedding, the births of our children… Now, that I really assess it, something wasn't quite right. I…I just can't put my finger on it."

"Perhaps Ginny isn't the one who was meant for you," Draco suggested. Harry scoffed.

"Besides Cho Chang Fifth year, Ginny's the only girl I've ever kissed. She's the only relationship I've ever had." He leaned back on his hands, letting his head fall back and the fading afternoon sun warmed his face.

"Exactly."

"I told you it isn't boredom," Harry insisted.

"No, not boredom, maybe there's just a yearning perhaps for something else. Something that you didn't quite know you wanted—needed—or maybe you did know, and you ignored it. You tucked it away as impossibility."

"You're not making sense," Harry lifted his head and looked at Draco, who continued to gaze out across the water. The golden sun forming a halo about his pale hair.

"As long as I live, I will never forget the last moments I had with Astoria. As I'd told you before, ours was an intense friendship. I don't think anyone knew me better. She certainly was attuned to my deepest thoughts, fears and yearnings. She made me promise that I would not sequester myself from the world—I think up until recently, I've certainly failed her in that regard. It wasn't intentional. It's just that…" Draco carded his fingers through his hair. "I—I've always been something of a coward. I suppose you've already noticed." He glanced over his shoulder at Harry, who raised a brow, but remained silent. Draco turned away once more, unable to face the startling green eyes that looked upon him with curiosity. "What I mean to say is that…on my own, without others behind me, forcing me to act—without the desire to save face, or best my rival—"

"You mean me?"

"You—you've never been my rival, Harry," Draco said. His voice came out low and hoarse. Harry sat up, staring at him in shock. He'd never heard Draco address him by his first name.

"I—you—what?" he stammered.

"I told you—when we first met, I really wanted to know you. I-I've always regretted how horribly wrong things went on the train First Year." Draco sighed. "I'm getting this all wrong. Astoria knew. I'd hidden it away for years, resigned that nothing would ever come of it, but she knew all along, and she reminded me before she died. She made me promise that if I ever got the chance, I wouldn't squander it again."

"Draco, what are you—" Harry began. The question on his lips faded before he had the chance to complete it.

Draco suddenly leaned in and pressed his lips to Harry's.


	15. Arrows in the Hand

"Someone's hunting wizards?" Albus gaped at Marcus and the others.

"Why?" asked Scorpius.

"We don't know," Sofia replied. "The papers are staying mum about the whole thing. You know how MACUSA is—or, I guess you don't, huh?"

"Well if they're anything like the Ministry of Magic, we have a pretty good guess. What's the church got to do with it all?"

"The New Salem Philanthropic Society was originally formed in order to expose witchcraft and magic. They want to destroy wizardkind."

" _What?"_ Albus exclaimed.

"They've been around for decades, but no one much paid attention to them until a few years ago. Conservatism and nationalist rhetoric kind of surged right around the time I was due to go away to school. It's gotten so bad that Ilvermorny is practically a group home for kids with No-maj parents."

"Well, if they hate wizards and witches and they're trying to prove that we exist, why would you worship with them?" asked Scorpius.

"We didn't, until about a year ago. Mémé said that there was a warning in the tea leaves. We needed to keep close watch on those who would oppose us," said Jacob.

"We thought that might be why you came," Marcus added.

"Well, like I said, I don't know. Dad doesn't typically share the details of his job with the family." Albus shrugged. "What does that have to do with me and Scorpius?"

"My uncle is a magical historian. He works at the archives at the International Confederation of Wizards. We know all about your families," said Michaela. "Yours too." She nodded at Lilac.

" _Mine?_ What are you talking about?" She looked at the girl incredulously.

"Have you ever heard of Severus Snape?" Michaela asked.

"Who?"

"He was our dads' Potions professor at Hogwarts," said Albus.

"And Headmaster after Albus Dumbledore died," added Scorpius.

"He was a Death Eater," said Michaela

"Until my grandparents were murdered," said Albus. "Then he became a spy for the Order of the Phoenix."

"The Order of the Phoenix?" Lilac gave him a bemused look.

"It was a secret resistance organization fighting against Tom Riddle and the Death Eaters."

"And we're related? You knew this?" she asked.

"Well—"

"We weren't certain," Scorpius interjected.

"Dad never spoke of Professor Snape having any family," said Albus. "Especially not Yank—I mean Americans. Your father never told you any of this?"

"He—no—we j-just—he's really only taught me how to perform magic. I never read anything about _this guy_ in the books he gave me. I barely knew my grandfather. He died when I was like two, and Grammie doesn't visit often. She's a separatist." She sat down on the rough wooden decking. "I can't believe he never told me any—I mean—he has to know, right?"

"Well, maybe he _doesn't_ know. Professor Snape's father was a muggle," said Albus.

"A _No-Maj?_ Well, how—"

"It could be any number of things," Scorpius suggested. "Maybe they had shared magical ancestors. Maybe it's just coincidence that someone in your family married a mage at some point in the past."

"Well, that's neither here nor there," said Marcus. "What's important is that we have to protect ourselves. The NSPS is serious. You heard Reverend Mathers' sermon this morning."

"What do we need to protect ourselves for? They're muggles." Scorpius countered.

"Yes, but what if he's managed to find wizards loyal to their cause?" Sofia insisted. Albus and Scorpius began to laugh.

"Wizards loyal to muggles who want to eliminate them? That's hilarious!"

"No it isn't!" Michaela snapped. "The Scourers could come back!"

"What are Scourers?" Scorpius asked.

"They were originally wizarding law enforcement, back before America became a united country. MACUSA hadn't been established and there were no Aurors," Marcus explained. "When the witch trials began, they got greedy and began turning in innocent No-Majs and even real wizards and witches in exchange for money."

"Seriously?" Albus and Scorpius looked at him in shock.

"It's true," said Lilac. "I heard Ma say that the NSPS got Dan Barbon elected in Texas, and they're hoping to get Arthur Hathorne elected to the Senate seat that was just came open after Kellen Farrington died last month. I heard her on the phone with Mrs. Parris, saying that maybe they might get some traction to rid the country of the 'evil that is attempting to infect us all'" She made air-quotes as she spoke.

"Ugh! Your mom really said that?" Sofia pulled a face.

"It's why my dad won't let me carry my wand. He insists that she can never find out."

"That's not safe," said Jacob. "You can't continue to suppress your magical energy. The darkness is growing in your core."

"What?" Lilac looked at him curiously.

"Jake's a Seer. If he says it, then it's true."

"Lilac's an Obscurial?" Albus looked from him to her incredulously.

"No I'm not!" she insisted. Dust rained down from the rafters as the decrepit structure trembled.

"Are you sure?" Jacob raised a brow.

"Oh, my God!" Lilac whispered. Her hand flew to her mouth. Scorpius knelt beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"It'll be okay. You just have to learn to control your emotions."

"You _need_ to use your magic. Just steal your wand. Who's going to know?" Jacob said.

"We're getting distracted y'all. Al, Scorp. We need—"

"My name is Scorpius. Please don't call me Scorp—and he doesn't like to be called Al."

"Okay, fine, whatever. We need your help," Marcus continued.

" _Our_ help?"

"Our parents have taught us pretty common magic—potions, transfiguration—I've got my apparition license, but none of us have gone to Ilvermorny. We don't have defensive skills."

"Not _good_ ones, at least," said Michaela.

"Wait—you want _us_ to teach _you_ _defense?_ " Albus' eyes grew large.

"Why?" asked Scorpius.

"If you'd seen me with a wand, you wouldn't be so eager to have me as your tutor," said Albus. He shook his head, holding his hands up.

"But you can do wandless magic," said Jacob.

"I—" Albus began to protest.

"C'mon. No way you can leap five feet into the air and block a kick with your chest, bro. That was _Ascendio Modicum—_ no wand, _non-verbal._ Your dad's Harry Potter, _surely_ you know—"

"I _don't, okay?_ " Albus insisted. "Scorpius will tell you, I'm rubbish at defense. I can barely manage a color-change charm! I can't even fly a broom! I don't know what you expected, but you're barking up the wrong tree. It's getting dark and our dads are going to be back at the reservoir soon, so can we go now?"

* * *

"Draco, what the hell?" Harry exclaimed. He drew away from Draco, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"I—oh, _fuck!_ I-I'm sorry!" Draco leapt to his feet, lifting a shaking hand to his own lips. "I—I didn't mean—" He hastened back along the path towards the house, summoning his helmet. "Shit! Shit! Shit!"

After a moment, Harry shook off his stupefaction and ran after him. He caught up with Draco just as he crossed the porch to the motor court.

"Draco, _stop!_ " Harry cried. Draco stopped, but did not turn back to him. "You can't just do what you did and then run away!"

"Well, I think I had enough of dueling you at Hogwarts. So, just forget it happened. I—"

"You're right. This isn't Hogwarts, and I haven't got my wand raised. That still doesn't mean that you get to play the coward. This isn't sixth year in the lav. This isn't me with a stinging-jinxed face at the gates of Malfoy Manor. Be a man and own up to what you're really thinking and feeling!"

"I'm attracted to you, alright!" Draco finally spun around to face him. He could feel his heart pounding painfully in his chest. "I always have been. Perhaps even I'm in love with you! Ever since I first laid eyes on you in Madam Malkin's I've been enthralled by you, Harry Potter! I was jealous of Granger and Weasley! I couldn't even have you as a friend, because you turned out to be anything but the wizard my father first assumed you to be! You were diametrically opposite of the world in which I lived! You were the enemy! So, that's what I made myself to you. I had to hate you, because longing for you was torture! I was trapped in a world of wizards who wanted to end you, and all I could do was breathe a sigh of relief every time you managed to overcome their attempts to defeat you, and hope that the Dark Lord never discovered how I really felt." He took a step towards Harry. "When you—when we dueled in the lavatory that night and you—I begged Snape to let me die. I was so _tired_ of fighting, pretending, being used…being alone on the inside." He sighed again. "It's getting late. The kids are probably wondering where we are."

* * *

Albus dropped the water bottle portkey, and stumbled forward a few steps when the group landed in the park path once more. He grimaced and stormed back toward the main park. Scorpius jogged to catch up with him and grabbed his arm.

"Albus, wait!"

"Scorpius, if we're not back to the pavilion before our dads arrive, we're going to be in deep shit!"

"What are you mad at me for? They just want our help."

"Really? And how do we do that, yeah? You've seen my magic. It's shit!"

"It's shit when you try too hard with your wand," Scorpius argued. "But I saw you do wandless magic."

"You _saw_ me summon a pillow from across the room. That isn't the same thing." He started off again. Scorpius blocked his path.

"Okay, then what about football? Jacob said you used _Ascendio Modicum_ to defend the goal. You told me all about it, remember? How do you explain that?"

"I don't know!"

"So what would it hurt to try? If nothing else, maybe you'll learn to control your magic better. Albus, _come on!_ They _accept us!_ They invited us to join them! No one has ever done that before! Lilac says Marcus is one of the most popular students at Lakeshore. People listen to him! They want to be a part of _his_ circle!"

"So this is about trending, yeah? Being popular?"

"No, this is about protecting ourselves! Your dad is here for a reason! You heard what the priest—minister said this morning! We've had four years of defense! I've dueled with Father ever since I received my wand! We can all learn from one another. It'll be like—"

"Don't say—"

"Dumbledore's Army!"

"I can't take you seriously right now." Albus began to walk again.

"Yo, Potter!" Marcus called after him. Albus heaved a sigh and turned once more. "Listen, man, I didn't mean to put you on the spot. It's just that…we're scared. We've read all about what happened in Europe back in the day, and we know all about how bad things were here in colonial times. What you don't know is that America is kind of a crazy place. No-Majs used to have laws that discriminated against Blacks. We weren't allowed to go to the same schools, live in the same neighborhoods. Even sit where we wanted at the movies or on the bus. Then, the last president we had—he encouraged hateful behavior towards minorities. They put refugee kids in _jail!_ I'm talking about little kids, bro! Women were being publicly disrespected, and no one took them seriously when they said they'd been abused and assaulted. Guys like me and Jacob were being murdered just for walking home from the convenience store! People called the cops on us for literally _no reason!_ Do you want that to happen to wizards? MACUSA already has a ton of rules, like wand registration. You wouldn't believe all of the paperwork my parents had to do in order for us to be allowed to get a wand without attending Ilvermorny! If Barbon and Hathorne expose us—" Marcus' expression was earnest.

"But I'm not as good as you think!" Albus insisted.

"None of us are, but all of us bring something to the table. We can help each other," Marcus asserted. "Look, the enemy out there is very real, and it will be up to _us_ to defend ourselves."

"I still don't know." They heard the roar of motorcycles in the distance. "Our parents are here. We've gotta go."

"Just think about it, okay?" Marcus implored as Albus walked away.

"He will!" Scorpius called out as he hurried after him.

* * *

Eric Snape was a quiet man. When not out patrolling the vast waters of Greyswood Lake, he enjoyed solitary pursuits like swimming or fishing, and he generally kept himself to himself. He had little use for idle conversation and tended only to speak out of good manners or necessity. As such, he had few acquaintances who he might actually call friends. So it was with wary eyes that he gazed upon the group assembled in the sitting room with his wife.

Frank Mathers knelt beside Toviyah, gripping her hand as he prayed, while Thom and Melissa Parris joined hands with Harlowe and Tarquin Cain. Eric waited patiently for him to finish.

"I was unaware that we were having a prayer meeting," he said. "I would have come home straightaway."

"Where is Lilac?" Toviyah asked.

"I assume she's still with her friends at the reservoir. I left the regatta at the end of the last race, as soon as all of the boats had cleared the water. I'm sure she'll be home soon."

"Brother Eric, do you mind if we fellas have a talk?" Frank gestured for him to enter.

"Come on, honey." Melissa and Harlowe led Toviyah from the room.

"Is there something I should know, Brother Mathers?" Eric glanced down the hall after his wife. The women went into their bedroom. "Is Toviyah okay?"

"No, Eric. No, she is not. Why don't you have a seat?" Eric cautiously complied, his gaze shifting from one man to another.

"What is going on?"

"Well, we were rather hoping you might be able to help us sort that out, Eric. Toviyah is deeply concerned about Lilac." Tarquin gave him a hard look.

"Lilac?" Eric asked in confusion.

"It is the duty of the father to ensure the virtue of his children."

"What exactly are you trying to say? Lilac? My daughter is virtuous and respectable!" Eric retorted.

"Now, Eric, there's no need to get excited, friend. It's just that Toviyah is—well, she's concerned about the amount of time that you and Lilac spend alone," said Frank. Eric opened his mouth to speak, but quickly pursed his lips, and silently counted to ten before he spoke.

"I damned sure hope you ain't about to suggest what I think you are, Frank." His voice was low and cool.

* * *

Albus fell into the soft cushions of the sofa in his bedroom and closed his eyes.

"Well?" Scorpius asked.

"Well, what?" Albus kept his eyes closed.

"Are we going to do it?"

"Scorpius—"

"Albus, this is our _chance!_ We don't know anything about America, and I know even less about muggles! These blokes can help us!"

"I just—I don't know, Scorpius."

"I'm _sick_ of being an outsider, Albus!" Scorpius stormed.

"They think I'm someone that I'm not!" Albus leapt to his feet, throwing his hands up.

"Then show them who you _are!_ " Scorpius caught Albus' hands. "You don't have to be the son of The Chosen One! Be _you!_ I heard what Marcus said to you, Albus. They aren't looking for perfection. They're looking for allies!"

Albus looked at him with a mordant expression.

"Fine. Whatever." He rolled his eyes. "I must be crazy!" Scorpius pulled him into an embrace and kissed him.

"That's what I like about you!" Scorpius replied with a smile.

"Really? Well, you know what I like about you?" Albus grinned. Before Scorpius could open his mouth to ask, Albus tackled him onto the bed and straddled his hips. He leaned down to kiss the other young wizard, brushing his long, pale bangs out of his face.

* * *

Harry moved his bike into the garage after Scorpius and Albus disappeared into the house. Draco stood facing the road, watching a solitary car carefully navigating the winding slope in the darkness until it disappeared around the bend.

"Draco—"

"I should collect Scorpius. It's a school night." He moved past Harry towards the door.

"Coward," Harry scoffed.

"What did you say to me?" Draco spun to glare at him.

"I said you're a coward. I try to get you to explain yourself, and you run away. Do you honestly believe that I can accept what you did out there and just go on, pretending nothing happened when there are less than one-hundred meters separating us?"

" _I'm_ the coward? That's rich, coming from the man who can't even see what's right in front of his face! You've as much as admitted that your entire marriage is a farce, but you choose to act clueless as to the reason! Unlike you, I never lied to myself. At least my wife knew the truth!" Draco hissed. "Do you—" He shook his head. "Do you honestly know why I chose to come here?"

"You said that you wanted to learn about the outside world. Is that not the truth?"

"It's only half of the truth." Draco licked his lips. "I came…I came to get away from you."

"I was unaware that you were under the impression I was pursuing you." Harry furrowed his brow, and crossed his arms, leaning against his bike.

"No, not to escape you." Draco finally turned to face him. "To get away from you—from what you are to me—an unattainable fantasy. I'd hoped that leaving the Manor, leaving England would finally allow me to exorcise the illusions in my head and in my heart, that one day I might finally have you. Merlin! You're like—like a curse that I can't shake!"

"Draco, I didn't know that you would wind up here—certainly not living just next door—" he gestured in the direction of the other house.

"I _know_ that! I just—" Draco pursed his lips before he spoke again. "When we faced off in the Room of Hidden Things, I wasn't there to confront you. I was there to _help_ you! I heard you talking to the Grey Lady. I knew what you were looking for. I just couldn't shake Crabbe and Goyle, but I thought that we might be able to distract them somehow. Only, I didn't count on Vincent setting the place on fire, and—" Draco shook his head. "There you were, saving my ass. I couldn't believe you testified for me—for us at trial."

"I—it was the right thing to do. Lucius didn't try to fight. Your mother lied to Riddle."

"Of course. You're so fucking noble, Potter," Draco scoffed.

"You helped us to escape from the Manor."

"What are you talking about? Dobby helped you escape."

"No." Harry gestured for him to follow. "I need to show you something." He led Draco to the guest house and up the stairs. Draco entered the sitting room, looking around curiously.

Harry disappeared into the bedroom and returned a moment later, holding a slim wooden box with no latches or hinges. To the casual observer, it may have simply been a highly polished block of wood, but for the barely visible seam that divided the top from the bottom. He placed it on the small dining table and pointed his wand.

" _Cistem Aperio_." A white light issued forth and the lid lifted away.

Draco drew in a sharp breath. Resting on a pad of black velvet lay a ten-inch wand of hawthorn wood. He felt a tingle rush up his spine, and shuddered. Draco knew that magical instrument as well as he knew every line that crossed his palm. He recalled the day that it chose him. Ollivander had extolled the virtues of the unicorn hair at its core and defined it as "reasonably pliant."

"Take it." Harry pushed the box across the tabletop. Draco took a step forward and reached out, but drew back before he could touch the wand.

"No. It's no longer mine." He shook his head. "You won it. You're its master now."

"I'm afraid I'd have to disagree with you on that. Yes, it performed for me. It did what I needed it to do, but I never mastered it. How could I, when I never won it?" Draco didn't answer. He only stared at Harry, nonplussed. "When it was all said and done, I couldn't quite understand why you didn't fight harder to hold on to them. I know you're a skilled duelist, but you hesitated, and then…you just let go."

"I—" Draco began to protest anew, and Harry rounded the table, giving him a penetrating look.

"You helped us to escape." They stood, eyes locked on one another for a long moment, before Draco cleared his throat and glanced at the wand once more. "Go on."

Draco huffed, reaching for the wand, and it leapt away to Harry's outstretched hand.

"Potter! What are you playing at?" he snapped. Harry said nothing, his expression impassive as he held the wand out to him. Draco eyed him warily. He took the hilt, but Harry still held on, and the wand began to vibrate.

"Do you really believe that I've been lying to myself all this time?"

"The true magic of love is not to avoid the changes, but to follow the path where it leads, no matter how difficult or steep."

"You sound like Dumbledore," Harry let go of the wand.

"I didn't much care for him, but I never hated him, and I certainly never wanted to kill him."

"I know." Harry's voice was low and hoarse-sounding.

"I, erm…I apologize for placing you in such a distressing position. You needed someone to share your feelings with, and I took advantage. For just one moment, sitting there beside you, I began to hope. I may sound like Dumbledore, and it's not a very Slytherin way of thinking. Nevertheless, love does this, all to reveal the secrets of your heart. When you accept it, the rocks will retreat and the high places will lie down. The trees will bend their arms to ward off the rain and draw back their canopy to light the darkness. However, Harry, none of this can happen if you refuse to embark upon the journey."

Harry watched, speechless as Draco turned towards the door, and he felt the echo of the wand's tremor wash over him with a tingling sensation that left him feeling lightheaded. Draco reached for the doorknob when suddenly Harry was standing in front of him. Green eyes held silver for several tense seconds, until finally Harry grabbed Draco, crushing their lips together.

* * *

Note: _First, a tip o'the nib to Khalil Gibran. I lifted one or two lines from The Prophet._

 _Also, the names of some characters do carry certain significance-Congressman Hathorne takes his name from the real life John Hathorne, a Magistrate in the_ _Court of Oyer and Terminer, during the Salem Witch Trials. Senator Farrington takes his name from Edward Farrington, accused and indicted for witchcraft, but escaped prosecution. Rev. Frank Mathers is named for Cotton Mather, an influential Puritan minister, whose writings laid the groundwork for the Salem Witch Trials. Thom Parris also takes his name from a prominent figure of the trials, Samuel Parris, whose daughter, Betty was one of the accusers._

 _As always, much gratitude goes to J.K. Rowling for her amazing stories and characters._


	16. Behind Closed Doors

Lilac walked slowly and thoughtfully up the narrow lane of Gypsy Bottom towards her house. Her mind was swirling with images of all that had taken place with her friends. Marcus and Jacob Belton were wizards, and Marcus' girlfriend Michaela was a witch! The Snape family had magical and non-magical relatives in England! Jacob said that she was harboring an obscurus. Dad said that those beings were dark and dangerous—the very magic that her mother wanted to destroy.

"Lilac!" she jumped with a yelp and turned to see Saheli jogging up the road. "Didn't mean to startle you. I was looking for you. Where'd you disappear to?" The dark-skinned girl caught up with Lilac and took her hand, lacing their fingers.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry, I—" she couldn't think of a plausible lie. "Albus and Scorpius showed up, and they'd never been to the reservoir before. They were asking about the trails and stuff. I guess I got a bit caught up, showing them around the park. By the time we got back, it was over." Half the truth was better than a complete lie, right?

"It's okay. I left early. My dad made me babysit my stupid brothers so he could drive my mom and sister to Wichita to be fitted for engagement outfits."

"What about you?" Lilac asked.

"Mom already had me measured for a sari. Yaay," she cheered flatly, rolling her eyes. Saheli pulled her through the open gate of an empty vacation house. They ran along the privacy fence that separated the property from the next house until they were hidden from passersby on the road, and Lilac pressed her against the wooden siding.

"Do you think we'll have a fancy wedding like Maya's?" Lilac asked. She brushed her lips over Saheli's.

"Yeah, right! Who'd be there? My family certainly wouldn't come!" Saheli scoffed.

"My dad might sneak away to be there," said Lilac.

"You're lucky. So you told him, then?"

"Um, no. Not yet." Lilac grimaced with embarrassment. "I want to—and I've come close a few times lately, but…I dunno. I'd like to believe Daddy would be okay about it. Not like Ma. I can't tell her anything without her finding some way to turn it into something shameful!"

"I'm just getting tired of sneaking around. I can't wait until we go to college."

"Same. I wish we didn't have to wait so long."

"What are you saying, Lilac?" Saheli gave her a look.

"I don't know. Forget it." She kissed the other girl. "I'd better go. Wanna meet before school to rehears for Solo and Ensemble? I can text Marcus and Scorpius."

"I guess."

Lilac walked with Saheli back to the main road, and the two shared a quick kiss before Saheli jogged back to the docks where she met her Uber driver, and the driver gave her a lift back to her house.

"What's going on here?" Saheli asked, noting the cars parked out front.

"I don't know, but I haven't got a very good feeling about it," Lilac scowled. She gave Saheli a quick peck. "See you tomorrow."

She heard the shouting the moment that she stepped onto the deck at the rear of the house.

"Just who the hell do you think you are?"

"The word and the law are very clear on such matters!"

"Dad?" Lilac slid open the glass door and stepped into the living room.

"Well, if you don't believe _me_ then just ask her!" Eric yelled.

"Ask me what?"

* * *

"Harry—Harry, wait!" Draco leaned away from Harry and the mind-numbing kiss.

"I—what?" Harry looked at him in confusion.

"What are you doing?"

"I was—we were kissing, weren't we?"

"Yes. Yes, we were. Why?"

"What do you mean, ' _why?'_ I—we—" Harry stammered.

"Exactly." Draco turned away from him. "Harry, I know how I feel. I've known what I've been feeling for _years._ You…you're still sorting it out. You're still married—"

"Separated," Harry corrected.

"It doesn't matter!" Draco turned back to him. "I can't subject my heart to a careless whim!"

His voice was tremulous as he spoke. Draco's mind and body were at war. Reason told him that he mustn't proceed with haste. Lust was insisting that he immediately act with passion and succumb to the strong arms and warm, soft lips that he'd so hurriedly abandoned.

"I don't act on whims, Draco."

"Don't you?" Draco conjured a remembrall and tossed it to him.

"I believe you'll recall that my actions were in direct response to _your_ instigation." Harry raised a brow, vanishing the delicate glass ball. He took a step forward. "Maybe I don't know what I'm feeling. Who really ever does? I just—you can't ask me to stuff the genie back into the bottle now that you've unleashed it!"

"My god, man! Why would I put a genie in a bottle? That's far too small!"

"What? It's a saying—never mind. Still, you can't argue the fact that the nature of our relationship has been altered yet again."

"I will concede that point." Draco replied with a nod.

"So…" Harry pursed his lips. "Perhaps we carefully explore what that means for us?" he suggested.

"I suppose I would be willing to consider the idea of initiating a liaison."

"Alright then. How do you propose we go about it?" Harry asked.

"We begin here." Draco took his hand and pulled him close, brushing his lips across his. "We begin now."

* * *

"What's going on?" Lilac looked from her father to the other men in the room.

"Lilac!" She spun around to see her mother charging into the room, followed by Melissa Parris and Harlowe Cain. "I _know_ what's been going on!" she cried, pointing an accusing finger.

"What are you talking about?" Lilac stared at her mother, panic welling in her chest. "Did she know about the magic? Dad?" She turned back to Eric.

"Always indulging her whims!" Toviyah spat. "Allowing her to flout God's teachings! You think I didn't know about you luring her out into the night!"

" _What?_ " Lilac blinked in disbelief.

"Toviyah." Harlowe wrapped an arm around her, and Melissa went to Lilac, gently taking her hands.

"Honey, no one blames you of course. You're just a child. We know you love your father—" Melissa gave her a sympathetic smile.

"Wait a minute!" Lilac recoiled from the woman's grasp. "You think Daddy was—eww! He would never! What's wrong with you people?"

"Lilac, you don't have to protect him," said Tarquin.

"I'm not protecting him, because I don't _have_ to!" Lilac's voice was low and menacing. The lights began to flicker and a window blew open.

"Wha—oh, my Lord! What the devil! Father almighty!" the assembled adults exclaimed.

"Oh, no! Dad, I'm—I didn't mean to—" Lilac's skin prickled with goosebumps.

"Lilac!" Eric cut her off. "Go to your room, and stay there until I tell you otherwise!"

"I—"

"Go!" he hissed.

Lilac ran from the room and raced up the stairs, a cacophony of raised voices behind her. She caught a glimpse of bright red light as she closed her bedroom door.

"Oh, God! Oh, God!" she whimpered, hugging herself as she slid to the floor, her back against the door.

She wasn't certain if the yelling had ceased, or the roar of her pulse in her ears had drowned out the noise. All that Lilac could hear for several minutes was her father's muffled voice, punctuated by short moments of silence. After a time, the voices resumed, though much more subdued, and Lilac was startled to even hear laughter. Shortly thereafter, the voices grew louder, and Lilac could clearly hear her parents bidding the guests good night, the front door opening and closing. She continued to sit, chewing nervously on her lip, until she heard footsteps on the stairs, and finally a soft knock at the door.

"Lilac."

"Dad?" She scrambled to her feet, replying in an urgent whisper.

"It's alright, kiddo. Open the door." Lilac hastily complied, and when her father stepped into the room, tears began to stream down her face.

"I'm sorry, Daddy. I don't know what happened! They were just—and mom—and I didn't know what to—"

Eric took his daughter into his embrace, consoling her with a light kiss on the top of her head.

"It's alright, puddin'. I took care of it. No one will ever bring it up again." She looked up at him. He returned her gaze with a raised brow. "Where's your wand?"

"My wand? It-it's hidden, like you told me to—"

"I think I've made a mistake, Lilac." Eric took her hands. "I made you promise not to give yourself away, to hide your magic."

Lilac went to the closet and retrieved the battered flute case.

"You said it was the law," looked up at him in confusion.

"It is, but—I didn't think things through properly, hon. I realize now, that you have been repressing your magic, not concealing it. Holding back against your magical urges is dangerous, Lilac. The energy that you would normally expend through occasional accidental magic or simple incantations becomes intertwined with your emotions."

"Am I an obscurial, Dad?"

"No, honey! No, but after what happened today, I realize that I have fallen short in teaching you what you need to know, and it's clear that we haven't been as careful as we thought." Eric sighed. "Lilac, you must guard your wand and your magic as if it was your virtue, do you understand?" He gave his daughter a hard look.

"Yes, Daddy." She nodded enthusiastically.

"Good." He took the case from her and opened it. Lilac extended her hand, and the pine wand leapt into it. She sighed as a surge of energy coursed from her fingertips throughout her body.

* * *

Scorpius exhaled slowly, closing his eyes as Albus kissed a trail along the side of his neck. He twined his fingers in his dark hair.

"Merlin's wand!" he breathlessly exclaimed.

Albus rocked his hips down against his, his breath hitching at the sensation of Scorpius' manhood nudging against his own.

"I can—I can feel you!" Albus whispered. He looked down at Scorpius, who wore an awestruck expression, his eyelids heavy. His breath came out in short bursts. "Are you…are you okay?"

"Y-yeah," Scorpius breathed. He lifted his hips, rocking into him. Albus moaned softly, and responded in kind. Scorpius gasped. "Oh!" He clung tightly to him.

"Merlin!" Albus declared. "I—do you—do you l-like—" he stammered.

"I—I—oh! Yes! I—do—do—" Scorpius could barely manage the question.

"Yes, I—"

Scorpius rolled atop Albus, and the two young wizards held one another desperately, frotting and kissing on the large bed.

"Scorpius, I—ohmigod! I—I—" Albus panted. He shuddered with release, and shoved Scorpius away from him, his cheeks red with embarrassment.

"What's wrong?" Scorpius asked, his face etched with worry. Albus turned away from him.

"I—erm…" Albus stood, awkwardly pulling his shirttails down. He kept his back to Scorpius.

"What? You—ohh! Really?" Scorpius asked in wonder.

"What the hell? Do you have to say it like that?" Albus grumbled. He took a deep breath and quietly muttered a cleaning spell, sighing with relief when it worked.

"But…isn't that—I mean—you liked it didn't you?"

"Well…yeah…but you didn't—" Albus continued to grip the hem of his shirt as he turned tentatively towards Scorpius.

"It's not exactly as if you gave me the opportunity." Scorpius grimaced.

"Sorry."

"It's okay. I'm er…I'm glad you…" At a loss for words, Scorpius let the thought linger.

They sat on opposite sides of the rumpled bed, avoiding one another's gaze.

"Erm…have you ever thought about—" Albus began.

"What it would be like to—" Scorpius cut him off.

"—Yeah." Albus finished. "I wouldn't even know how to—"

"Me either." They sat in contemplative silence for a few moments.

"Say, Scorpius, you weren't—I mean, did you want to—"

"No! I mean…I don't know. I—well, maybe not just yet." Scorpius felt his cheeks grow warm as they reddened.

"Yeah, me either." Silence. "D'you want something to eat?" Albus turned to him.

"I'm _starving!_ " Scorpius replied with enthusiasm.


	17. Seeds

_Happy New Year!_

* * *

"I never would have guessed you'd be one for curls." Harry smiled in spite of himself when he entered the container garden, carrying a bag of mulch over his shoulder, and spied the blond standing before the ornamental plant area, examining a brugmansia plant. "Did we skive off classes for the salon?"

"I beg your pardon?" the man turned around. Harry's expression morphed to one of surprise and mild embarrassment.

"Oh, pardon me. From behind, you reminded me of a friend." Harry indicated the man's long golden hair. "Are you interested in the Angel's Trumpet? As you can see, we have a number of varieties."

"They are nice, but I'm not actually in the market for ornamental plants at the moment. I understand you have an extensive apothecary."

"Oh, I don't know about that, but our selection is somewhat comprehensive. Won't you come into the shop?" Harry heaved the large bag to the side with a thump, and gestured to the man to follow him into the main shop where he rounded the counter. "So, what might I help you with?"

"I was rather hoping that you have some genepi or wormwood. I'm also looking for arnica, cicuta and myritistica fragrans—preferably whole kernels."

"That's an interesting combination of items," Harry noted as he examined his shelves, retrieving the jars of dried herbs and seeds. "The cicuta is particularly toxic. I would definitely recommend careful handling, and warn against using it in any type of culinary preparation."

"Well, I'm fairly familiar with its properties. You're pretty well-versed on your products."

"It's my job." Harry smiled as he measured each item into paper envelopes, and labeled them. "Is this all that you need?" He moved down the counter to the register.

"Did I see lemon balm in your garden?"

"Oh, yes! Would you like it fresh? I also have some dried." Harry pointed to the shelves.

"Fresh, if you don't mind." The man smiled.

Harry felt an odd tingle up his spine, and for a moment, he was certain that his scar tingled, an event that hadn't occurred in over two decades. He resisted the urge to touch his forehead, and cleared his throat.

"Right. I won't be but a moment." He hurried out to the garden and took a deep breath to steady his nerves. "Pure coincidence!" he quietly muttered to himself as he made his way along the gravel path to where the fragrant herb was planted. " _Immobulus!_ " he whispered, stilling the bees that hovered around the plantings. He quickly cut several clusters of leaves and returned to the shop's interior. "Here we are!" Harry placed the envelopes containing the herbs into a small bag, and carefully wrapped the lemon balm in paper before adding it.

"Awesome!" The man tossed his hair. Again Harry was reminded of the haughty Malfoy features. He blinked several times. "Yeah, so-o how much?"

"Oh, erm right! Erm, that will be fifteen-ninety-five." Harry shook off his bewilderment. The man passed him a handful of cash, and as he retrieved change from his pocket, a coin fell to the floor and rolled beneath the flower coolers. "Oh!"

"It's fine," the man waved it off.

"You sure? It looked like a quarter to me. I can return one from the register." Harry offered.

"No big deal." The man took the bag with a nod. "Thanks."

"Thank _you._ Come again soon!" Harry called as the man exited.

* * *

"Are you _kidding me?_ " Annabeth groused, running her finger down the page posted on the bulletin board beside the door of the orchestra studio.

"What?" asked Lilac as she approached with Scorpius and Saheli. Annabeth pushed through them and stormed into the studio. The trio looked back at her momentarily and turned their attention to the notices on the board, indicating the results of the placement auditions that had taken place earlier in the week.

"Yess!" Scorpius looked up to see Marcus pumping his fist. "Principal violin, baby!"

"Well done, mate! That means you're concertmaster." Scorpius congratulated him.

"And you, my friend are with me on first desk!" Marcus held up his hand, and Scorpius gave him a high-five.

"What about you guys?" Scorpius asked Lilac.

"Principal flute." She buffed her nails on her shirt.

"First desk, cello," said Saheli as they entered the anteroom to unpack their instruments.

"Maestro _clearly_ plays favorites," asserted Annabeth.

"It was a blind audition, Annabeth," said Saheli.

"And Maestro wasn't the only person scoring," pointed out Caroline Beatty as she aligned the sections of her flute.

"Oh, right! So Malfoy just _happened_ to get first desk?"

"Did it ever occur to you that he's just that good?" said Marcus. "After all, he's Maestro's son. He's been teaching him probably since he was old enough to hold a violin."

"My point exactly!" she exclaimed. "How do we know he wasn't coached?"

"Because Maestro is particularly strict," said Scorpius. "He's never given me an advantage in any of my studies. He may only encourage a minimum of one hour of rehearsal. However, _I_ rehearse at least two hours a day, generally more, and a minimum _four_ on Saturday and Sunday." Scorpius rubbed rosin along his bow.

"How do you spend _your_ Friday nights, Annabeth?" Saheli gave her a pointed look.

"Why are you complaining anyway? You got principal second violin," noted Matthew O'Brian. He clutched his cello in one hand, grabbing his music folder and bow with the other. "Such a bitch!" he muttered, exiting the room.

"Let's go, y'all. We've only got about five minutes to warm up and tune," said Marcus.

Draco perched on the edge of the stage, assiduously scrutinizing the students as Marcus led the tuning. He had been pleasantly surprised by the level of competency shown by the vast majority of the students during the auditions. He was quite glad to have had the other instructors grading the performances as well, for Draco noted very thin margins in his scoring of various students. Marcus stepped down from the podium, and he assumed his position, paging through the score. The students immediately assumed a ready position.

"Now then, please turn to Act two, number fourteen, variation two—the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. In the absence of a celesta, Mr. Stroud, if you would please take the vibraharp, and Miss Rowan, the glockenspiel, yes?"

"Yes, Maestro." The two percussionists moved to their places. "Very good. Please pay particular attention to the tempo. Note that it is Andante ma non troppo. No need to rush. There will be dancers onstage, and the young lady moves with us." He raised his baton. "Strings."

The students began to play the bright music selection as Draco conducted with vigor. "Excellent bass clarinet!" he encouraged. "A bit smoother, mallets! More gently, strings!" He brought his baton down at the end of the piece, and raked his fingers through his hair. "That was passable," he said. "The last twenty seconds needs work. It should be very precise. Keyboard percussion, I'll be speaking with Dr. Vargas about section coaching. The keyboards stand out in this number. It is crucial that it be just right."

"Yes, Maestro," the two students nodded.

"Strings, please be mindful that you do not play Bartók pizzicato. I want a very clean and light sound. Mr. Belton, make time to work with your section on this."

"Yes, Maestro."

"Very good. Let us begin once more at the top."

* * *

"So, Potter," Jacob sat down on the locker room bench beside Albus as he bent to tie his shoes at the end of class. "You're gonna work with us, right?" he asked, his voice low. Albus sighed.

"I-I don't know. Scorpius seems to think it's a good idea." He shrugged, pulling his laces tight. "The thing is, Jacob, I'm _really_ not as good as you think. I mean, yeah, I did a little wandless, but that was just chance. Most of the time, my spells completely backfire. Before we moved here, I set my bed on fire trying to cast a simple color change charm, and then I flooded it trying to extinguish the conflagration."

"Ooh! 'Extinguish the conflagration!'" Tucker affected a British accent and laughed, leaning against the lockers. "You're in America, Shakespeare! Why don't you stop talking like a bitch-ass member of the Royal family?" His peers laughed. Albus bit his lip and his skin prickled with goosebumps. He was immediately reminded of Sophia Zabini and her gang at Hogwarts _._

 _"They_ _accept us!_ _They invited us to join them! No one has ever done that before!_ " Scorpius' voice echoed in his head, and Albus determinedly got to his feet.

"Actually, I rather enjoy my ability to employ my familiarity with the English lexicon rather than the vulgar derivative vocabulary which your people have bastardized over the last four centuries." Albus smiled. Jacob laughed.

"You're still a little bitch," Tucker muttered.

"Well, to use your vernacular, I may be a 'bitch', but your girl's still gagging for my cock."

"Ohhhh!" the other boys who had gathered about jeered. Tucker lunged at Albus, who held his hands out in front of him.

"You fucking—"

 _Flipendo!_

Tucker flew backwards several feet, crashing into a bank of lockers.

"What's going on in here?" Coach Garcia shouted, entering the locker room. The boys scattered, leaving Harry, Jacob and Tucker on their own.

"Potter! He friggin' shoved me!" Tucker cried.

"I did no such thing!" Albus denied.

"Well somebody had better give me the whole story, or you're both benched tomorrow!" Coach Garcia placed his hands on his hips and looked from one boy to the other.

"The truth is Tucker was trying to jump from one row of lockers to the other," said Jacob. "He fell. Looks like he hit his head. Maybe that's why he thinks Albus did it."

"Jumping over the lockers, Parris?" Garcia gave him a reproachful look.

"But I—"

" _Confundo._ " Jacob coughed. Tucker shuddered.

"I-I saw a guy do it on YouTube?" he said, getting unsteadily to his feet.

"You bobo!" Garcia snapped. "What if you had broken your leg? Let's go!" He pointed towards his office. "The rest of you hurry up and get dressed! I'm not writing any tardy passes!" Tucker's looked back at Albus and Jacob curiously, as he accompanied the coach to his office. "You'd better hope you don't have a concussion, bro! ¡No puedo creer que dejé Oakland por estos estúpidos niños ricos!"

"So, I guess that means you're gonna do it then?" Jacob grinned at Albus, softly punching his shoulder. "Pretty slick move with the knockback jinx, bro. Didn't look like it backfired to me." He raised a brow.

"Whatever." Albus rolled his eyes and grabbed his satchel, slinging it over his shoulder. He started for the exit.

"Wait, wait, wait, bro!" Jacob leapt into his path. "Did you _really_ smash Bella Cain?" His eyes were wide with excited curiosity as he jogged backwards in front of him.

"Why would I hit a girl?" Albus looked at him oddly.

" _No_ , man! _Smash—_ you know…did you two hit it?"

"Ohh! D'you mean did we have sex?" Jacob nodded fervently. "Ugh! God no! I'm not into gi—ah—her!"

"Yeah, but you said she was gagging on it, man!"

"No-no, no. You misunderstand. I said she was gagging _for_ it. It's an expression, like erm…wetting her knickers?"

"What?"

"It means she _really_ wants it."

"Ohh! Like fiendin'!" Jacob snapped his fingers.

"Uh, okay, I suppose. It's rather pathetic, actually. She's always hanging around near our docks and the like."

"Well, look. I suggest you hurry and find someone to hook up with soon. You don't want to be without a date for the Homecoming Ball next month." They exited the athletic complex and hurried along one of the sidewalks that bisected the manicured lawn of the main quad. They nodded at students and teachers as they passed.

"Wha—homecoming ball?"

"Yeah, man! It's like _the_ formal dance! Well, it's the only one that's open to all upper school grade levels. Only ninth graders ever go to the Valentine's dance, and the prom is only for Seniors and Juniors."

"Prom?"

"They don't have prom at Hogwarts?" Albus shook his head. "The only dance we ever had was the Yule Ball, and that hasn't taken place since the Triwizard Tournament in 1994. They discontinued it for the second time after, well…you know."

"Mm, gotcha." Jacob nodded, respectfully not mentioning how the ill-fated tournament gave rise to the return of Voldemort. He patted Albus' shoulder. "Well, look, man. If I were you, I'd start looking for a date now. The dance will be here before you know it."

"Right." Albus nodded, uneasily. They reached the center of the courtyard, and Jacob started off down another walkway.

"I'll let you know about that other thing we talked about," he called out. "And hey, we've got a limo for the night if you guys want to ride with!"

* * *

Harry sat down in front of the fireplace in his bedroom with a resolute sigh. He tossed a pinch of floo powder into the hearth and Ron's face appeared in the green flames.

"Well, it's about bloody time!" Ron groused.

"What can I say; it's been a bit hectic here. Business appears to be doing much better than I could have expected." Harry shrugged.

"Have you spoken with Ginny at all?" Ron asked.

"She hasn't returned any of my calls, and I tried to floo her hotel in Edfu before she left for the campsite in Kheny, but she'd closed her hearth."

"Why didn't you tell me about Horton, Harry?" Ron asked, an expression of disappointment on his face.

"I don't know. She's your sister, Ron. I…" Harry exhaled slowly. "I didn't want to put you in the middle of our marital problems."

"I just don't understand it, Harry." Ron shook his head. "Maybe you should just come home."

"I can't, Ron. I have a job to do _here._ I did my best to make things work for the whole family. I _did._ I tried to tell her it's only temporary."

"But she kind of has a point, Harry. We all abandoned her during the height of the war, and every time you go off on an assignment, for Ginny, it's like reliving the worry and uncertainty all over again."

"But it's not the same, Ron. You know that. Riddle is gone. We've managed to neutralize the Death Eaters. Do you honestly think I'd have allowed Albus to come with me—made arrangements to bring the whole family—if there was that kind of a threat?"

"Of course not, Harry, I just—it just doesn't make sense. I keep going round and round with this. _Why_ would Ginny cheat? She says you barely pay her any attention, and did you _really_ ask her if she'd considered Gordon's feelings?"

"Ron, she _wanted_ me to be jealous. She said so. I can't imagine someone using me to make their spouse jealous."

"What the hell is wrong with you, Harry? You _should_ be jealous! You should be fighting for your marriage!" Ron shouted. He opened his mouth to say more, but stopped, giving Harry a hard look. "Did _you_ cheat on Ginny?" he asked, his voice low and accusatory. "Is that why you haven't been paying her attention?"

"Are you mad?" Harry gawked at Ron.

"Then what is it? Tell me?" Now it was Harry's turn to shout.

"I don't know, alright! I'm a _myth_ —a legend that everyone has built up in their minds as someone who can do anything and be anything to anyone! I'm not that person! I never have been! Only no one seems to understand that!" Harry raked his hands through his hair and lowered his voice before he spoke again. "I don't know, Ron. Things just…they just aren't the same. I'm not…I'm not the same. Maybe I'm not enough for Ginny anymore."

"Harry—" Ron began. He sighed. "Never mind. What are you going to do? Get a divorce?"

"I don't know." Harry shrugged. "That's up to Ginny. Whatever she says she wants, we'll do. Just—d'you mind not mentioning this to Molly and Arthur. You know how Mum gets."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that!" Ron gave him a look of understanding. "That's one cauldron, I'm happy to stay out of."

"Thanks, mate. Listen, I'm—I'm sorry. I—" Harry faltered. He didn't know what to say.

"Yeah." Ron pursed his lips. "I'd better go."

The green flames flared a moment and returned to their normal state. Harry continued to sit in front of the fireplace, staring into the flames. He'd lied to his best friend. Cheating wasn't the reason that his wife had strayed, but the secret that he was currently keeping from them all would certainly be a new nail in their marriage's coffin.


	18. He's a Keeper

_So sorry for the long delay. Things have gotten extremely busy in the workplace, as I've taken on a new position. This one is very short, but I didn't want to keep things hanging for too long. I hope to have more up asap. Thanks to everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed._

* * *

Ginny scratched out the last line of the article that she had written describing the opening ceremonies of the 2021 Quidditch World Cup, and tossed down her quill. She raked her fingers through her hair and twisted the long red tresses into a bun atop her head as she heaved a sigh and wanded away the ink scribbles.

… _Despite the ICWQC decision to move up the World Cup by a year, fans are still thronging to the campsite with excitement. The location, on a small largely uninhabited island just off the west bank, and south of the Edfo bridge appears the perfect spot, with plenty of concealment protections, which have also served to ward off the intense desert heat. The campsite is alive with a festival atmosphere tonight, in anticipation of the first match of the series between Haiti and Brazil. This is the first World Cup matchup between the two countries, since the 2014 snitchnip debacle, and the Haitians are certainly intent on banishing the shadow of disqualification embarrassment. In addition to the usual World Cup fan-zone activities, including broom courses, veela ballet, snidget menagerie and leprechaun casino, the Egyptian Ministry has spared no expense in providing a wide variety of entertainment, with tanoura and raqs sharqi dancing, elaborate feasts, and most popular—the flying carpet races. Up to the minute coverage will be presented throughout the series, with play-by-play provided by the Wizarding Wireless Network, Wizarding Broadcast Corporation (America), and the Allied Magical Press._

Satisfied with her article, she hastily checked it over for errors and apparated to the press tent where she handed it over to a courier elf. As she walked back to her tent, Ginny noted the presence of ICW Aurors patrolling the crowds, their gazes watchful, wands clutched at the ready. Since the 1994 attack on the competition, security had increased tenfold. There were uniformed and undercover agents throughout the stadium, campsites and marketplace. All members of the press were required to wear special charmed badges to allow them access to training rooms and the team campsites. Probity Probes were employed at all stadium entrances, and sneakoscopes were strategically placed throughout the event location.

Ginny largely ignored the cacophony of noise from the numerous vendors and activities in the bazaar, which began just outside the entrance of the stadium and created a concourse through the tent city. Just as she passed the vintage broomstick pavilion, she felt a hand on her arm.

"Hiya." Gordon Horton fell into step beside her.

"Oh, hi."

"Have you had dinner yet? There's a wonderful stall just down the way. They serve a delectable Mahshi," he suggested. Ginny shrugged.

"I'm not terribly hungry," she replied.

"Alright, well, how about a cup of sahlab?"

"Oh, I don't know, Gordon. It's been a long day. I just want to get back to my tent."

"Ginny—"

"Merlin's beard! You're Ginny Potter! And wait—Gordon Horton!" squealed a teenage witch with red, white and blue hair and wearing a USA Quidditch robe. "May I have your autograph?" The girl dug into her pocket and pulled out a well-worn book, shoving it at Ginny.

"Yeah, sure." She smiled wanly. "To whom should I make it out?"

"Oh, yeah, um Cassandra-Cassandra Solart. Yeah, I like _totally_ have all of my mom's old news clippings and photos of your career. I _totally_ wrote like five times for a tryout with the Harpies, but no dice."

"You want to play pro Quidditch?" Ginny asked, as she signed the girl's book and passed it to Gordon.

"I considered it," the girl said. "But if I can't play with my favorite team, then forget about it. I've decided to race brooms instead. I'm training for the Kopparberg. After that, I'm looking to get into racing collector brooms. You know—like Moontrimmers, the Silver Arrow, and the early Comets. I have a 180 in mint condition. It belonged to my grandmother."

"Really?" Gordon smiled. "Do you have a sponsor?"

"Not just yet," Cassandra replied. "I mean, I won a grant from the Salem Witches' Institute, and we're in talks with Cirrus Air. They're a major broom dealer in the U.S."

"You should consider taking part in Cross-Flyte in April, at Bodmin Moor."

"Uhh, don't you have to like be invited to that?"

"Well, Comet Vintages is always looking for new flyers. I penned my floo address in your book. Give us a call when you get home, and I'll arrange an invitation. That is, if you're really serious about racing." Gordon gave her a wink. Cassandra let out a gasp as realization dawned upon her.

"Ohh, my god! Comet Trading Company! _Horton_ -Keitch brake charm! Oh, my—I'm—wow! Thank you _so_ much! Ohmigod! Ohmigod!" She clutched the autograph book to her chest and bounced up and down. "I have to—I have to find my parents! OMG!" Cassandra let out a squeal and dashed off, calling out her thanks once more before disappearing into the crowd.

"She'll probably remember this longer than she'll remember the details of any match," Ginny remarked, walking again. She adjusted the light cotton cardigan she wore.

"Well, she seemed enthusiastic enough," Gordon replied, offering his elbow as they walked. She demurred. "It's gratifying to see a young person with such clear ambitions."

"You sound like an old man," she said. They reached her tent and she pointed her wand to disable the protective enchantments she'd placed to protect it in her absence.

"Well, I'm not much in the way of a spring chicken either. That fall I took in the hippogriff incident really got me thinking about the long-term. I've survived in this game for quite some time. I think Gwen is probably the only player who's been in the sport longer." He followed her into the tent.

Once the children had been born, Ginny and Harry had decided to upsize from a basic tent to a spacious yurt in order to accommodate their growing family as they attended Quidditch events throughout the UK and Europe, though the entire family hadn't attended the World Cup together since 2010. At that time, Lily was barely two years old. Over the past decade, Ginny had either traveled alone, or with some combination of her own children and other members of the extended Weasley family, and in 2014, Harry had been unable to attend the event, due to a high-level operation to apprehend Abraxan smugglers.

The space had been large enough to accommodate sleeping quarters for as many as ten people, but now was Spartan, with only a small table that doubled as her writing desk in the center of the tent. On one side was a simple futon with a handmade quilt thrown across it, and on the other, bathing facilities and a small cook space.

"You're going to retire?" she asked. "Do I get the exclusive to that announcement?" She summoned a glass and filled it with water.

"Well, Dad's been after me for a while now, about taking over the day to day running of the company, especially since it was my idea to boost our image against Ellerby and Spudmore by implementing the vintage resale plan. We're the only manufacturer to restore and resell antique brooms." Gordon took a seat on the futon.

"Sounds like you've made your decision." Ginny perched on the opposite end of the sofa.

"You're using your reporter voice," he frowned. "What's going on, Ginevra?"

"You tell me, Gordon. It's clear you've a point to make. Make it."

"I need to settle down. The fast-paced pro athlete lifestyle isn't for me anymore. It's time for me to move to the next phase of my life."

"That's great. I think the corporate life would suit you. It'll keep you near the game."

"Ginny," Gordon sighed, moving closer to her. "I think you know what I'm talking about. I want to move into the next phase of my life, but…" he placed his hand on top of hers. "It doesn't mean much if I'm going into it alone."

"Gordon." Ginny stood up and moved to the flap, pushing it aside and looking up at the fireworks display in the distance. "I don't—I don't know—"

"You said that nothing had been resolved between you and Harry since he told you that he knew about us." He went to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Well, I—it hasn't, but—"

"But you're hoping that something will happen?"

"Well…" her voice trailed off. Gordon turned her to face him.

"Ginny, be honest. I've only got to go on what you've told me, but is he even fighting for your marriage? You told him that you didn't want him to go, but he did. He didn't even implore you to change your mind about joining him, did he? Have you even stopped to wonder why?"

"Harry isn't cheating on me, Gordon. He would never do that!" she insisted. Ginny moved away from him, going to the cabinet for something stronger. She poured a glass of firewhiskey. "How could you even—"

"I need to know where this is going, Ginny!" Gordon insisted.

"I can't talk about this right now." She tossed back her drink, grimacing as it burned her throat.

"Fine. Okay, but if you want us to continue to be a thing, then I don't know how much longer I can continue to play reserve."

"Gordon—" she began. He pulled her into an embrace and placed a finger to her lips before leaning down to kiss her. "I—" He shushed her again.

"I'm a keeper, not a seeker," he whispered, before exiting the tent.


	19. What Wand

_I know it's been awhile. Work and illness have kept me down. Instead of continuing to my intended end-point for this chapter, I decided to post what I have. Don't worry. Things will begin to heat up very soon. Thanks so much for hanging in there with me!_

* * *

"Stop, stop—seriously—stop!" Marcus waved his bow. "It ain't funk, y'all. Don't slap the string against the fingerboard. Watch how Scorpius plays it." He pointed to Scorpius, who played the phrase, lightly plucking his strings. "See, it's like a whisper. It's a fairy after all. They're delicate and vain, and always preening. If we play it the other way, it's like ripping their wings off." The other students looked at Marcus curiously and Scorpius bit his tongue to hold in a comment about his very accurate description of fairies, but the young concertmaster continued oblivious to their reactions. "Maestro is _so_ going to embarrass us in rehearsal if we keep this up. Let's do it again." The students played the opening bars of The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy once more.

Draco kept an ear trained to the musicians on the other side of the door as he carefully entered his grades for the week into the computer. He still wasn't very sure of himself, and held his breath each time he found it necessary to employ the machine. His first attempt to use the program for grading and attendance was an unmitigated disaster. It took him three attempts and a desperate call to Harry for assistance, before he ascertained how to properly save and submit his entries before logging out of the program. Draco had learned at the last faculty meeting that they would soon be at midterm, and parents would be checking their students' progress. After auditions, he'd had to field a number of calls and complaints from parents, unhappy about their children's position. Fortunately, his personal experiences with Lucius' machinations in his own education had served to prepare him to respond to them with a certain level of aplomb.

Draco checked his watch and began to gather his belongings, summoning scores and important papers to his attaché before tucking the notebook computer in with them. When he opened the door that separated his office from the orchestra studio, he noted a marked difference in the sound of the selection that the young musicians had been rehearsing.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to observe the positive direction that your music has taken. The pizzicato is light and decidedly more delicate now. This is the sound for which we have been looking. Please make a note of that as you rehearse on your own. Good day."

The students gathered their belongings and made their way to the anteroom to pack up. As Marcus Belton turned to go, Draco noticed an object fall from the boy's folder. He picked up the slim rod of dogwood, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

"Mr. Belton, a word, please." Marcus turned back to him, and Draco saw the boy's expression tighten as his face blanched.

"Maestro?"

"I applaud your leadership, young man. Have you ambitions towards a future on the podium?" Draco held the wand out to him.

"Well, I may have given some thought to a career in music."

"I'd like to say that I am flattered. However, I sincerely doubt that my influence has much to do with your goals."

"Oh no, Maestro. I—I am honored to have the opportunity to study with someone of your background."

"Is that so? I was unaware that my reputation preceded me." Draco raised a brow.

"I-I mean—"

"I was wondering," Draco cut across him. "Prior to accepting this teaching post, I'd never actually traveled to America. I understand that it is quite a beautiful place, full of interesting places to visit."

"Well, it's a very large country, sir."

"There is one place of interest that I would certainly like to visit. Have you ever visited Mount Greylock, Massachusetts?"

"S-sir?" Marcus stammered, struggling to maintain his composure.

"I hear the views from the summit are quite stunning." Draco shifted the tone of the conversation, letting the boy off the hook. He'd learned what he needed to know, and he was certain that Marcus had gotten his message. Scorpius entered the studio.

"Dad?"

"Ready to go, son?" Draco smiled. "Keep up the good work, Mr. Belton." He patted Marcus on the shoulder.

"Is everything alright?" Scorpius asked, looking back over his shoulder at Marcus as he hurried from the studio.

"Scorpius, were you aware that young Belton is a wizard?" Draco asked, his voice low. Scorpius gave his father a wary glance.

"Erm…ye-es?"

"And he knows who we are?" It was Draco's turn to look worried. He steered Scorpius back into his office, and closed the door, casting a privacy spell.

"Apparently so—but, Father, I only found out recently and they don't seem to—"

" _They?_ "

"Well, I mean, he has a brother. Jacob plays football with Albus."

"Potter knows?"

"I don't know if Mr. Potter knows or not, but—"

"Merlin's wand!"

"No, Father, wait! Marcus said that they read about us growing up. Of course, everyone knows Mr. Potter. He's famous. They think that he's retiring from heading up Magical Law Enforcement and that he's moved here to start a new life. As for us, they simply think you decided to be a music teacher. They don't seem to care about our family's past! Father, they're _nice_ to me and Albus! It's not like Hogwarts." Scorpius tone was plaintive as he spoke. Draco sighed.

"I suppose I'll have to take your word for it, son. Belton appears to be an honorable young man. However, you must still be vigilant. Just as we have much to learn about muggle life, there is quite a bit we don't know about American wizarding culture either."

"I understand, Father. I am still a Slytherin, you know." Scorpius smiled, and his father returned the expression.

"Good." Draco glanced back through the studio door before flicking his wand to draw the window blinds, and taking his son's hand. "Let's go." They disapparated.

* * *

"Hiya, Lilac." Albus trotted down the front steps of the school building to where Lilac stood, watching Saheli step into a sleek BMW.

"What's up, Potter?" She perched on the wall that bordered the edge of the lawn. "Soccer practice today?"

"Yeah. You?"

"I've got crew in about half an hour."

Albus took a seat beside her, watching a group of students clamber into an SUV and speed out of the parking lot.

"It's so odd to see kids our age with cars. In London, most of us walk of ride a pushbike almost everywhere, if we don't take the bus or train." He grinned. "Of course, in our family, we floo or go side-along with our parents most of the time."

"What's a…" Lilac narrowed her eyes. "A flue? You mean like in the fireplace?" she asked.

"Yup. If your house has a floo connection, you can go to almost any destination that's on the network. It's really convenient if you're not old enough to apparate," he explained.

"Wow. How does that work? Daddy never told me about that, and I don't think I've ever read about it."

"Well, you just toss in a handful of floo power and then step into the flames and—"

"What? But you'll get burned!"

"No, you won't. It's perfectly safe, and all you feel is a fluttery warm sensation. The floo powder is what transforms the flames for travel."

"Oh. I feel like I don't know anything about magic sometimes," Lilac remarked.

"I understand. Dad said he felt the same way when he first went to Hogwarts. I suppose a lot of muggleborn students feel the same way. It must be hard, especially if one's family is distressed by it all."

"Yeah. Oh, hey, um—c'mere." She hopped down from the wall and grabbed Albus by the hand. He followed her around to the side of the building, where they ducked behind a tall hedge.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Check it out." Lilac grinned. She drew her wand and held it up for him to examine.

"Is this yours?"

"Yeah. Dad decided that I can carry it now."

"That's brilliant! I've never seen a wand like this one. What kind of wood is this?" he asked, eyeing the golden-hued wand.

"It's pine. The core is thunderbird tail feather."

"Wow. So, c'mon. Show me what you can do." Albus gave her an encouraging nod.

"Here? We'll get caught!" she whispered.

"Scorpius and I use ours all the time. As crappy as I am, surely we'd have gotten a citation by now. Just do something simple. Do you know the color change charm?"

"Well…" Lilac looked around. Albus peered through the hedge.

"No one's looking." Albus gestured towards her wand. Lilac pursed her lips and pointed her wand.

" _Colovaria!_ "

Albus' white uniform shirt changed to bright blue.

"Nice!" he exclaimed.

"Are you _really_ that bad with a wand?" she asked.

"Hopeless." Albus grimaced.

"But what about what Jake said? He saw you do wandless magic."

"Well…" Albus sighed. "Every now and then I seem to be able to control my magic better without a wand, but—"

"That's amazing!" Lilac exclaimed. "Daddy says that only the most powerful wizards can perform wandless magic."

"Ah, that's not true. Anybody could cast a basic wandless spell."

"Fine, then. Prove it," she challenged. "Change your shirt back."

"No way! The last time I tried this spell; I set my bed on fire and flooded my room."

"Aw, come on, Albus! Just _try_ it! Didn't you throw Tucker Parris across the locker room?"

"Merlin's wand! Jacob Belton has a _big_ mouth!" Albus declared.

"Come _on_ , Potter!"

"Fine!" Albus huffed. "But if I wind up with third degree burns, _you're_ explaining this to my dad."

"Go for it!" Lilac grinned wickedly. Albus rolled his eyes.

" _Colovaria!_ " He held his breath.

"Awesome!" Lilac exclaimed. Albus looked down to see that his shirt had returned to its original white color. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"I don't get it," he said as they walked back to the front of the building. "A wand is supposed to channel one's magical energy—focus it— _my_ wand seems to make everything worse."

"Maybe it's defective," she suggested. "Is that possible?"

"No idea. I've never heard of anyone having a defective wand," Albus replied. "Although, my uncle Ron broke his wand second year when he and Dad crashed a flying car into the whomping willow at Hogwarts and—"

"A _flying car?_ " Lilac stopped walking and stared at him incredulously.

"It's a long story. Basically, Scorpius' granddad secretly gave my mum a cursed diary that had belonged to Tom Riddle, which possessed her, forcing her to open the Chamber of Secrets, unleashing a basilisk which nearly killed my Aunt Hermione and a few other people at the school, but Dad killed the snake with the sword of Gryffindor and saved Mum's life." Lilac gawked at him with disbelief, but Albus continued, oblivious to her shock. "Anyway, Uncle Ron's wand got broken when they crashed, and it misfired a lot of spells he tried to perform that school year. Then, when they went to save Mum, their defense instructor, Professor Lockhart—a _total_ charlatan, by the way—tried to obliviate them, but the wand backfired and now he's basically a blithering idiot who doesn't even know his own name."

"Seriously?"

"Mm-hm. All true." Albus nodded his head earnestly.

"Wow. The war must have been…wow." Lilac shook her head.

"Yeah," Albus shrugged. "Dad doesn't talk about it much. He claims most of the books overstate his accomplishments."

"Is it true about Maestro? Was he _really_ a—a Death Eater?"

"There's a lot more to the story than most people know. There were many who were loyal to the Death Eater cause and to Tom Riddle, but there were some who were forced to take the mark—like Maestro. Not everyone who does terrible things does them willingly." His expression turned dark. He knew every detail of the dark deeds perpetrated by the Malfoys, but he didn't want anyone casting the shadow of disapproval over Scorpius.

"Well, for the record, I like Maestro. He's tough, but he's the best music teacher I've ever had. Besides, if there's one thing I've ever learned, it's that one should believe half of what you see and _none_ of what you hear." She grimaced.

"Erm, Lilac, soo what made your dad change his mind about your wand?" Albus asked.

"Oh, well, he just—" she hedged. "There's your dad."

Albus turned to see the champagne-colored Land Rover turn into the lot. He summoned his satchel, and Lilac snickered.

"What?" he looked back at her.

"You don't even realize you're doing it!" she laughed.

"Doing what?" Albus hated being laughed at, and his expression was filled with exasperation.

"Magic, _duh!_ Your bag? It was like five feet away, and you totally called it to your hand."

"Well, yeah, but—"

"Hello, Lilac. Fancy a lift?" Harry asked, leaning towards the open window of the SUV.

"No thanks, Mr. Potter. I've got crew." Lilac shouldered her bag. She took Albus' arm before he climbed into the truck. "I think you know what the problem with your magic is, Albus." She whispered. "You just need to admit it."

* * *

 _The title for this chapter is taken from an image in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets film._


	20. It's All in How You Look at It

_First and foremost-THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH FOR YOUR PATIENCE! Between being sick, and being overwhelmed with projects at work, I wondered if I was ever going to get back to this story. Finally, I woke up this morning with ideas in mind. It isn't much, just a bit of a segue to events to come, but please enjoy, and I hope to have more for you soon. Thanks for hanging in there with me, and please review!_

* * *

All eyes turned upward as owls swooped into the great hall with the morning post, many of the birds bearing copies of the _Daily Prophet_. James shoved his plate away, eagerly searching for his owl, Angel, and nearly upsetting Rose's juice into her lap.

"Oi! Pay attention, would you!" she snapped, taking up the glass before it could spill.

James ignored her as he and Lily tousled for a moment, each grabbing for the paper as the owl came within reach.

"It's just a game, for heaven's sake!" Rose rolled her eyes. "Lily, you dropped your letter." She passed an envelope that the bird had also delivered to her cousin. Lily reluctantly let go of the paper.

"You certainly weren't so blasé at the last cup, when Sasha Krum invited you to the Champions' Ball," James replied, turning to the sports section and removing the special World Cup feature section, a small paper within the paper that carried full coverage of the events, including photo coverage of the previous day's games in full color, with play-by-play captions.

"That was different," she insisted, stabbing her sausage.

"Yeah, his dad is friends with Mum and Dad," said Hugo. He placed another helping of bacon on his plate.

"No, _Mum_ is friends with Viktor Krum. _Dad_ said I was too young to date," Rose groused. James laughed.

"Well, you _were_ only eleven."

"Sasha was only thirteen! Dad only said no because he's still smarting over Mum going to the Yule Ball with Viktor. It's completely ridiculous."

"Oh, it's from Al."

"Guess he hasn't forgotten all about us after all," James replied, not looking up from the paper. "Oh, look. Your boyfriend's playing for Bulgaria this year." He showed Rose the picture.

"Al says he's been promoted from reserve to starting keeper on the football team," said Lily, as she read her brother's letter.

"Albus is playing football? I thought he hated sports." Hugo stacked bacon and eggs on a slice of toast to make a sandwich.

"He's been with Dad, when Mr. Thomas invites him to watch Eliza play," she pointed out. " _Share_ the paper, James!" Lily snatched the newspaper from her brother.

"Oi! Wait your turn!" James grabbed the paper back and spread it on the table, turning the page. "Uh-oh, Rosie! Looks like you've got some competition for Krum's affection. His fan club appears to be pretty intense."

James pointed to a photo near the top of the page, which showed a throng of young witches clamoring for the young Quidditch star's attention.

"Oh, sod off, James." Rose pulled a face, but leaned closer to examine the photograph as she spoke. "Sasha and I are simply pen friends. He can—" She squinted at the page, and looked closer.

"What?" Hugo took a bite of his sandwich.

"Nothing. Nothing. We should get a move on. Don't you have Herbology first?" Rose hurriedly grabbed up her things, tipping the juice picture in the process.

"Watch it, Rosie!" James caught the vessel before it could spill, a few drops splashing onto the paper. Lily blotted the page with her napkin.

"What's with you? If Sasha isn't—" Lily gaped at the page, leaning in close.

"What?" Hugo leaned over to look at the paper.

"You know what guys, maybe I _will_ ask my dad if Sasha can be my escort to the Spring Fete, and—" Rose tried desperately to change the subject.

"Is that Aunt Ginny?" Hugo mumbled, his mouth full.

"Mum? Where?" asked James, leaning in.

"Right there, with—is that Gordon Horton?"

"Yeah, he's— _what the hell!_ " James exclaimed, peering closely at the page.

"Oh, dear!" Rose sank back into her seat, biting her lip. She had hoped that she had simply imagined what she'd seen in the background of the photo.

"They're _kissing?"_ Lily's voice was barely above a whisper, and laced with incredulity. She looked to her older brother, in the hope that he would laugh and tell her that she was imagining things, but James simply stared silently at the page.

"James, maybe you should—" Rose began, but James leapt to his feet, snatching the paper, and stormed out of the Great Hall, Lily close at his heels.

* * *

Draco removed his headphones and paused the music file he was listening to. After a few false starts and a lot of help from Harry, he was finally getting the hang of using a computer. Never one to back down from a challenge, Draco discovered that he could record his students as they performed, and give a second look at his initial evaluations. As September headed to a close, neither Malfoy had even seemed to notice their gradual immersion into muggle life.

That is why Draco found himself somewhat startled, when he took a deep breath, and inhaled a most heavenly aroma. He wandered out of his study and into the kitchen, to find Scorpius plating two amazingly appetizing dishes.

"Scorpius?"

"It's almost ready. I've laid the table in the dining room, if you'd like to choose a bottle of wine," his son said, flicking his wand. Two individual-sized wellingtons separated into neat slices on each plate.

"I—" Draco stood for a moment, dumbfounded. "Erm, wine—right!" Draco shook off his surprise and left the kitchen as Scorpius carefully poured a balsamic sauce down the middle of each wellington.

He was entering the dining room with two plates, as Draco uncorked a bottle of Fuoco Serpentino Syrah. Scorpius carefully set each dish on the table.

"Scorpius, I-I'm you did this?"

"My Culinary Arts homework—prepare a meal for my family. We have boneless loin of lamb wellington with red wine balsamic sauce, sauté of artichoke hearts with white wine, lemon and capers, and finally, a purée of carrots, sweet potato, fresh ginger and clementine." Scorpius sat down across from his father and spread his napkin across his lap. "I saw it on a...erm…a website on the computer."

"It smells divine, and it looks very appetizing," his father remarked. He poured them each a serving of wine. Scorpius looked at him curiously. "A single glass with dinner won't hurt you." He gave him a smile. Scorpius grinned.

"Bon _appétit_!"

They ate in silence for a few minutes, Draco occasionally murmuring his appreciation for the meal. Scorpius blushed with satisfaction.

"Are you enjoying school, my son?" Draco asked.

"When we first arrived, and you told me of your plan, I was terrified. I wanted to learn more about muggle culture, but a whole new country as well? I was certain that you were way in over your head!"

"And then we discovered the Potters," Draco shook his head, neatly slicing off a morsel of wellington.

"Merlin's socks!" Scorpius exclaimed. "I must confess, having Albus to show me the ropes certainly made the transition a great deal more manageable."

"I daresay we would most certainly have crashed like a Moontrimmer on a cloudy night."

"Now _that's_ what I miss—flying out over the fields just after sunrise!"

"Yes, although the motorbike is swift and exhilarating, it isn't quite the same as being airborne. It is rather regrettable that the dates of the World Cup were changed this season. I hate that our tickets went to waste."

"Yeah. I was yet surprised at the final outcome. Who would have thought that Haiti would manage to edge out Bulgaria in the quarterfinal?"

"Even considering their desire to save face after the whole snitchnip debacle, I don't believe I'd have wagered on them getting quite that far. They put up a good fight against New Zealand."

"True, and I'd have thought that New Zealand would take it all the way. Albus was certainly chuffed that his team were the victors."

"You know, my son, I honestly couldn't have been more shocked, and perhaps even a bit dismayed when I first learned that you and young Potter had forged an alliance. I was certain that it would be the ruin of the Malfoys. I couldn't appreciate the alienation that you were facing at Hogwarts, and to be sure, I was concerned about your ability to assimilate with your peers at Greyswood—not just because of your limited experience in the muggle world—because your mother and I had sheltered you. I didn't want to go about things in the same way as Lucius—carefully selecting your associates, and grooming you for social advancement. Yet, I didn't realize that by setting you apart, I fostered the ostracism that you would ultimately face in school. I feared, knowing so little about the muggle world that I might wind up doing the same thing here."

"Well, fortunately, I met Lilac all on my own." Scorpius smiled, pushing the remnants of his meal, a few crumbs of pastry, around his plate.

"She seems like a nice young lady. She's certainly very talented, musically. Your quartet sounds very nearly perfect."

"Thank you, Father. We've worked very hard." Scorpius sipped his wine. "It is curious that you say Professor Snape never mentioned any relatives or extended family."

"Yes, well, Severus was a very private person. As we learned after the war, he had exceptionally strong reason to be. However, given that he'd renounced his muggle heritage at a young age, it isn't surprising that he'd not have given thought to the possibility of relatives abroad."

"I suppose so." Scorpius gazed thoughtfully into his glass.

"Do you like this young lady, my son?"

"Oh, yes! Very much, Father. She's smart, talented, and has a scathing sense of humor." Scorpius smiled.

Draco raised a brow, nodding slowly as he listened, noting his son's enthusiasm. He raised his glass in salute; happy that Scorpius was content, that he was finding his place, and cultivating was looked to be a special relationship.


	21. Jackalopes v Dragons

_Another short one just to move things along. It seems everyone has plans for the evening..._

* * *

Scorpius cleared the table with a wave of his wand, sending the dishes to the dishwasher. Another flock of his wand, and the sink was filled with soapy water. He set all of the cleaning to begin, and wiped down the counters by hand. Draco poured himself another glass of wine and was headed back to his study, when his phone rang in his pocket. He fumbled a moment, careful not to spill his wine, and lifted it to his ear as he pressed the "answer" icon.

"Draco."

"Potter." In spite of himself, a smile crept across his face at the sound of Harry's voice. "What can I do for you my friend?"

"Well, I've just had a fire call from Kingsley, and he's given me tickets to a Quodpot match. It's the Kansas City Jackalopes versus the Los Angeles Dragons."

"Really? I have read a little about Quodpot. Apparently, the sport is quite popular is America."

"Yeah, so, erm…I was wondering if you'd like to go to the match with me."

"Oh, I-" Draco began.

"Ah! I should have mentioned that it's tonight." Harry quickly added.

"I see. Well…I-I suppose that might be interesting. Erm…"

"Oh, great. Great. Erm, the tickets are portkeys, so we can go from here straight to the arena."

"Well, alright then. What time?" Draco asked.

"The portkeys activate in an hour. Is that enough time?"

"Erm, yes. Yes, that will be fine. I'll meet at yours?"

"Excellent! See you."

They rang off. Draco turned up his wine glass, and turned away from his study.

"Dessert, Father?" Scorpius asked. He opened the refrigerator and retrieved two glass dishes of Eton mess.

"Erm, no actually, son. Mr. Potter and I are going out."

"Going out?" Scorpius looked at him curiously.

"Yes. He's had an extra admission to a Quodpot match."

"Oh, cool."

"No, I don't believe the weather will be too much of a factor," said Draco.

"N-no, I meant, that sounds good. Erm, 'cool' is like a thing that muggle kids say, apparently."

"Ah, I see, well, I suppose I should get ready. We depart in an hour. Goodness! I've no idea what American modes of wizarding dress are like! Perhaps I should ask Harry." Draco fished his phone from his pocket.

"Well, according to Marcus, Americans aren't too much given to superfluous robes and the like. They're almost like muggles." His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he dug it out, briefly glancing at the text message before turning his attention back to his father.

"Really?"

"Here, look." Scorpius summoned a newspaper.

"When did we get a subscription to the New York Ghost?" Draco looked over Scorpius' shoulder as he spread the paper open on the counter. "Hmm. It is rather a bit different than Europe—oh, I think I like that!"

* * *

"Al, I'm leaving!" Harry called from the front hall. Albus appeared at the top of the stairs.

"You're going out?" His face was a question as he descended.

"Mr. Malfoy and I are attending the Quodpot match in Kansas City."

"Oh." He stopped halfway down.

"Is something the matter, son?"

"Ah, no. Erm, I was wondering-I mean a bunch of us were going to get together and erm…eat! You know, just hang out?"

"Okay. And who exactly is 'a bunch'?" Harry slipped into his jacket, giving it a tug. "Scorpius, I suppose?"

"Well, yeah, and Jacob and Marcus, and Lilac, and a couple of others." Albus replied. "Oh, Marcus is driving," he added hastily.

Albus held his breath as his father seemed to consider his request. Harry regarded his son thoughtfully Albus had never been terribly social before. He realized now that such owed to his lack of friends at Hogwarts, other than Scorpius.

Since arriving in Greyswood, he found that Albus had begun to show an interest in both his studies, as well as the social life at school, making friends with his teammates, and getting to know other kids his age. The doorbell rang, and he turned to admit Draco.

"Evening, Albus." Draco smiled as he entered.

"Good evening…Mr.…Erm…Malfoy." Albus gawked at him.

Draco wore a loose-fitting hooded knit tunic, in a soft sage green, with leather breeches and paddock boots. A crocheted sleeveless duster was draped upon this, and his long pale hair was pulled away from his face at the front and secured into a top knot.

"From what I'd observed in the papers, this is the current mode of fashion among American wizards," he said.

"Right. Rand here I'd just gotten accustomed to seeing you in muggle clothing!" Harry remarked, the corner of his lips turning up as he raked his eyes over him. "Well, I suppose we'd best get a move on." Harry tossed Albus a beaded bracelet. His son looked at it nonplussed. "Put it on. It's a portkey."

"For-" Albus slipped the bracelet onto his wrist.

" _Curfew_ is at eleven. If your muggle friends don't want the shock of their lives, I suggest you make yourself scarce before it activates." Harry raised a brow.

"Eleven. Got it!" Albus grinned, and dashed back up the stairs. " _Are you going?"_ he texted Scorpius.

" _Yes. You?_ "

" _See you in a few_."

* * *

Harry and Draco landed inside a privacy fence that surrounded what appeared to be a derelict factory building, but quickly discovered that they were in the right place as they noted other individuals and groups apparating or landing nearby, and joining a lengthy queue to enter the structure.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please be mindful to stay _inside_ the security fence. Once your ticket is redeemed you will not be able to bypass the protective enchantments!" warned a wizard in bright yellow robes that read 'SECURITY' on the back. "Please have your wands ready to be checked at the entrance. All underage mages must be accompanied by an adult to enter!"

After a brief wait, they reached the entrance, and had their wands scanned at security. Harry marveled at the portal through which they were asked to pass their wand, and made a note to discuss the same idea with Hermione and the head of Magical Games and Sports at The Ministry.

"Wow!" Draco murmured when they finally entered the venue.

The building's exterior belied what awaited them on the inside. The entire place reverberated with the thump of music as three young women with dark skin and white hair, in seductive leather outfits. The half-African-American half-veela trio of sisters providing the pregame entertainment was called _I, Tituba_.

"What exactly are they doing?" Draco asked. "It rather sounds like poetry, but kind of different."

"It's called rap. Basically, it is poetry, set to the rhythm of the music. It's been really popular with muggles for decades. James _loves_ it." Harry explained, checking their ticket stubs.

"Oh. Hmm. I shall have to look into that. My students are probably very interested in it, d'you think?"

"I'd bet my wand on it! Looks like we have VIP seats. This way, I think."

They found their seats were in a well-appointed open box above the general admission seating, and featured comfortable leather seating, and a personal house elf staffing a lavish buffet.

"Well, America certainly wins points in my book. VIP seating at the World Cup wasn't quite this opulent," Draco remarked, accepting a mug of Dragon Scale. "Wooden benches and a shared refreshment area."

The pregame festivities came to an end, and the stage was vanished, revealing the field of play. Officials entered the starting circle at one end of the pitch, and a large cauldron filled with Quodpot solution was placed at the center of the scoring circle on the far end. Both teams swooped into the arena, and Harry and Draco immediately noted the differences in their attire and those of Quidditch players.

"Merlin! They're wearing more padding than a keeper!" Draco exclaimed.

The team colors consisted of fitted breeches and knee-length robes which resembled tailcoats, fitted through the waist, to conform to the excessive padding, and flaring at the hips to sit neatly over their brooms. Each player wore safety goggles with mirrored lenses and an anti-mist charm; tall boots were supplemented with padded leather gaiters that featured integrated knee pads. Padded leather gauntlets were strapped to their arms, and additional leather padding protected their chests and backs. On their heads, each player wore a stiff, peaked helmet with a chin strap, and cage-like face guard.

"Although, I have to admit, the shorter robes are probably much less cumbersome than ours were," Harry pointed out. "No fumbling to mount the broom. I like the split tail." Draco nodded his agreement as the Quod was released.

The game commenced and fans of both teams cheered loudly as the players raced down the pitch, battling for control of the quod. The Jackalopes were the first to score, slamming the ball into the pot with a splash. A new quod was brought into play, and soon the Kansas City team was down a player, as the quod exploded. Los Angeles took the lead with the next two quods, and Harry and Draco found themselves caught up in the action.

"It's much more physical than Quidditch!" Harry remarked, over the roar of the crowd. "It's a good thing they don't have beaters!"

"Absolutely! Oh!" Draco exclaimed as the current quod exploded, unseating its carrier from his broom. "Although it seems most of these players are built like beaters."

A whistle blew, and

halftime was announced. A squadron of scantily clad witches on sparkling broomsticks swooped out over the pitch, and began to perform a carefully choreographed aerobatic routine.

"Drink?" Harry offered.

"No, thank you." Draco shook his head, and Harry went to the refreshment table near a large window. A flicker of light caught his eye, and he looked down on the street below. Several police cars were stationed along the fence that surrounded the building.

"That doesn't seem right," he said.

"What's that?" Draco asked.

"I think we should—" Before Harry could finish, there was a flash of light and a rumble not unlike thunder that shook the place.

"Bloody hell!" Draco leapt to his feet, brandishing his wand. Harry whipped out his own wand.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Do not be alarmed!" a voice came resonated in the space. "It appears that our protective enchantments have been compromised. However there is _no imminent danger._ We ask that those who are able please disapparate immediately to your safest destination. Those who are unable to disapparate, please proceed orderly to the emergency portkey stations on the lower concourse. All underage mages are to report to the field of play, to meet their guardians. We repeat; _there is no imminent danger!_ "

* * *

 _So Draco and Harry's plans look to have gone sideways, how about Albus and Scorpius? Thanks so much for reading, and don't forget to review!_


	22. It Happened One Night

" _Flipendo!_ " Albus pointed his wand at Lilac. She stumbled back a step or two. His shoulders fell and he sighed heavily as he watched Scorpius throw Marcus back several feet.

They'd snuck into the school, disabling the security system with a freezing charm, and made their way to the gym, where the group set up the gymnastics and wrestling mats for protection. In addition to Marcus, Jacob and Michaela, the group was once again joined by Sofia Calderon as well as Chris and Mason Corey, brothers who also attended Greyswood High School. Lilac helped him to his feet.

"Just try it again," she encouraged.

"Why bother?" Albus groused. "It's just going to be more of the same. This is why I didn't want to do this. I can't teach you guys anything. I'm completely hopeless."

"You're not hopeless," said Scorpius.

"Yeah. Maybe you just need to loosen up," Jacob suggested. "When I first got my wand, I couldn't even manage a wand-lighting charm. Marcus teased me mercilessly."

"'Til Ma Mere took my wand, and set a _Langlock_ jinx on me for a whole day." Marcus added with a wry grin. "But I after that, I started helping him with his wand work. Try it again. This time, just take a deep breath, and rather than focusing on your target, focus on the outcome."

"C'mon. Try the knockback jinx one more time," said Lilac. "Imagine you're not holding your wand. Just focus on the spell," she whispered, before moving to a spot a few feet away from him, and taking up a dueling stance. Albus frowned, but nodded and faced her. Lilac gave him a pointed look, and he halfheartedly raised his wand.

" _Flipendo!_ "

Lilac flew through the air and landed just a few feet short of the far wall with a grunt. When she didn't immediately get to her feet, a bubble of panic rose in Albus' belly.

"Bloody hell! I've killed her!" he gasped. They group rushed to her side.

"Unngh!" Lilac moaned. She raised a fist. "Fuck yeah, dude!" she declared. "Now that is how you do it!" They all began to laugh, and Scorpius helped her to her feet.

"Told you you could do it," Jacob patted Albus' shoulder.

"I think we should start some real-" Marcus began. They heard the clatter of a door opening and closing nearby.

"Shit!" Michaela hissed.

Marcus summoned his backpack. "Grab one! Hurry up!" he unzipped the bag, and everyone reached into the satchel and grabbed a toilet paper roll.

The cardboard tubes began to vibrate the moment they were touched, and a few seconds later, they found themselves in the abandoned boathouse where they'd first met. Cries of _Lumos!_ went up around the space.

"Is everybody here?" Marcus asked, urgently.

"D'you think anyone saw us?" Lilac asked.

"Jeez, I hope not!" Sofia worried. "I'm already grounded. My parents are at the Jackalopes game, and I'm supposed to be studying for my ACT."

"Who do you suppose it was?" asked Scorpius.

"Probably Coach Garcia," said Jacob. "Or maybe a custodian."

"Let's hope that's all," Marcus sighed. "I guess we should just call it a night. I'll look for someplace else for next time, and let you know."

They all charmed their paper rolls with new portkey destinations and departed one by one. Scorpius and Albus portkeyed back to the Malfoys' house.

"Father?" Scorpius called out. "Are you there?" His voice echoed in the large house. "I guess they're not back just yet."

"I just texted Dad," said Albus, looking at his phone expectantly. After about a minute, it chimed. "He says they're still in Kansas City." Albus tapped out another message. "I'm asking if you can sleep over."

" _I'm—what?_ " Scorpius' heart began to pound furiously.

"They said 'yes'. C'mon."

Scorpius hastily stuffed a change of clothes and toiletries into a satchel, and they went next door.

"I'm curious," Scorpius began, as they settled into reclining seats side-by-side in the theater, and Albus pointed a remote at the console below the large screen. "What did Lilac say to you before you cast your knockback spell?"

"Nothing really." Albus shrugged, scrolling through the movie titles on Netflix. " _The Umbrella Academy._ Looks kinda funny. What do you think?"

"I think you're deflecting. What's that film? It looks interesting. _Black Panther._ I wonder if he's an Animagus perhaps. Let's watch it."

"I'm not deflecting," Albus retorted. "Should we have popcorn?"

"Capital suggestion." They queued up the movie and went to the kitchen. "Albus, the force behind your knockback jinx was amazing. Have you talked to your father about it?"

"Merlin, no!" Albus slammed the microwave door, wincing slightly and giving it a gentle touch, as if to apologize to it, before pressing the 'popcorn' button to start it. "He'd totally freak. You know how he is. He would suspect everything I do."

"But surely he has to have noticed. What about your duelling lessons?" Scorpius asked. Albus grimaced.

"My duelling lessons are as predictably awful as ever," he replied. "I'm telling you Scorpius. It's an anomaly." The microwave beeped, and Albus waved his hand, summoning a bowl from the cupboard and filling it with the freshly popped corn. Scorpius snorted. "What?"

"Where's your wand?"

"In my pocket." Albus gave him an impatient look.

"It's as if it's second nature to you." Scorpius indicated the full bowl of popcorn. Albus rolled his eyes.

"Let's just go watch the movie."

* * *

Harry and Draco rushed for the door as the arena began to transform back into a derelict building, the fine seating and buffet vanishing, as the opulent sky box became a nondescript room with broken windows and rough-hewn floors of rotted wood that crumbled in places. They made their way through the now-dark corridors, punctuated by flashes of blue lights that shone through missing windows and cracked walls. When they were a few yards from the stairwell, a figure appeared ahead of them with a pop, and they pointed their wands.

"Whoa! Whoa! Stand down, guys!" Theresa Belton held up her hands.

"Bloody hell! Theresa!" Harry lowered his wand, but did not put it away.

"Let's get you out of here." She said.

"Ah, just a moment," he hesitated. "What was it you were looking to purchase when we first met?"

"Smooth move, Potter!" She gave him an impressed grin. "I do believe it was Chinese Chomping Cabbage."

"Let's go." Harry grabbed Draco's hand and took hers.

They landed seconds later on a quiet street in what appeared to be a small town business district. Theresa gestured for them to follow her into a brick building with an emblem on the door that Harry immediately recognized as the MACUSA Department of Magical Law Enforcement standard. Inside, she led them up a flight of stairs to an office with a frosted glass window bearing her name and title.

"Are we good?" she asked, warily cutting her glance at Draco.

"Oh, yeah. Absolutely. Theresa Belton, Draco Malfoy. Draco, Theresa. She's with the DMLE."

"So I gathered." Draco gave her a nod.

"What happened out there? Why was the arena location surrounded by muggle police?"

"We're not entirely certain. Our contact inside the local police says they received an anonymous tip-off that this was some sort of illegal rave." She shrugged.

"But the protective wards!" Draco exclaimed.

"I know. We're looking into that. We've got investigators combing through our intel to see if we might have missed any credible threat." She shook her head. "We had _strict_ security! There's never been a breach of defenses at an event before!"

"Do you think it could it have been an attack?" Harry asked. Theresa sighed as she paced behind her desk.

"There was a meeting a little while ago at Second Salem. It was open only to members of the Philanthropic Society, but Melissa Parris can never pass up a blond vanilla bean coconut milk latte." She smirked.

"With a shot of Veritaserum, yes?" Harry raised a brow. Theresa touched her nose.

"What did she say?" Draco asked.

"She mentioned that there was a wizard in attendance."

"A wizard? How could they be sure?" Harry asked.

"She said that he performed magic—a color change spell on the walls, levitation—from her description, it sounds as if she placed a _Langlock_ jinx on Thom."

"Bloody hell!" Harry exclaimed. "Have you considered embedding someone with them?"

"Well, why exactly do you think you're here, Potter? To look cute and grow flowers?" Theresa chuckled. "It'll take a sizeable donation to get into their inner circle. The Belton name carries quite a bit of weight, but the higher ups think it could have blowback on our company. They wanted someone under the radar that the No-Majs wouldn't suspect."

"What about the magicosm?"

"If this group is anything like the Death Eaters, they'll keep their membership rolls a closely guarded secret. Anonymity is everything in this game," said Draco. "I would assume also, that America's magical world gives little concern to the muggle press?"

"Actually, not as little as you might think, Mr. Malfoy," said Theresa. "While the older generation prefers largely to live in full separation from the No-Maj world, the wizarding community in America enjoys a loose integration into non-magical society. This development—Chadwick Valley—is an all-wizarding suburb." She pointed out of the window. "To the No-Majs, it's an anachronistic commune. To passing tourists, it's like a living museum. They don't really pay close attention to much other than the gas station and five-and-dime, where they buy souvenirs," she said. "At any rate, we have spells which allow us to employ muggle technology, to an extent." She flicked her wand and a large cabinet on the far wall swung open to reveal what appeared to be a vintage television. Another flick of the wand turned it on, and they saw a black and white test image on the screen. "The Wizarding Broadcast Network produces daily news reports and a few television programs. Maybe fifty percent of wizarding families without no-maj ancestry have a television in their home."

"And they report muggle news?" asked Draco?

"Yup! Of course, it's all run through the office of Covert Vigilance, but America is a very large country. We span across an entire continent, so we needed the easiest means of sharing information. Owl post tends to draw a certain amount of attention in some places, and mages have complained about that. They're also a restricted species as pets here."

"Really?" Draco pulled an expression of curiosity. "That must play havoc with post," he mused quietly, as he examined the knobs on the television.

"No. We have our own mail carriers in the cities. They're not that hard to disguise."

"So, this attack. Did there appear to be any injuries?" asked Harry.

"Fortunately, there were none," Theresa shook her head. "Security was well prepared."

"Apparently not," Draco asserted, turning away from the media cabinet.

"Come again?" Theresa gave him an indignant look.

"Draco!" Harry's face was a mask of exasperation.

"Think about it, Harry. How long did it take before You Know Who and his forces were able to penetrate the barriers around Hogwarts during the battle? I would assume that an event in a populated area of this size with, what—at least a thousand mages in attendance—that would warrant a bit more than _Repello Muggletum,_ yes? _Hours_ passed before the castle's defenses had been weakened enough to finally fail. It took scores of Death Eaters to make that happen. Someone would have noticed that many people hanging about, so would the muggles. Don't you think?"

"I suppose you have a point," Harry conceded.

"I'm lost then. A lone wolf attack makes no sense!" Theresa dropped into the chair behind her desk.

"No, not necessarily a 'lone wolf' as you say, but certainly a very clever wizard with a well thought out plan of attack. He, she, or _they_ most likely infiltrated from the inside. American wizards, being so far removed from the war, wouldn't likely notice the signs."

"Signs?"

"If mages are attuned to the media, as you say they are, an incident such as this will certainly get their attention."

"Are you saying there will be more attacks?"

"I wouldn't doubt it," said Harry. "The Death Eaters began with attempts to entice wizards into their ranks. Whenever their efforts failed, they turned to torture and eventually to murder. Muggles were their playthings. And anyone who opposed them were obstacles who needed to be eliminated."

"There will be disappearances first," said Draco. "Likely taking advantage of personal vendettas."

"Have there been any other incidents like this one?" asked Harry.

"Nothing of this magnitude. There was a report about a week ago of a missing boy. No-Maj born. We looked into it. The parents said that he had run away. The mother seemed particularly distraught, but the father seemed a bit less concerned, if you ask my opinion."

"What do you think?"

"It was similar to reports we've had elsewhere. Things didn't add up. People left home without personal belongings, or left behind items that one might consider important or cherished. In an few cases, neighbors report having seen what appeared to be law enforcement personnel escorting people away, but we can find no evidence of arrests or detentions."

"Sounds like the Snatchers," Draco quietly commented.

"It's how things started with the Scourers," said Theresa. "We've embedded a few people in federal No-Maj law enforcement offices, but thus far we haven't uncovered any evidence that the government is involved directly."

"So, if it is Scourer activity, either the government doesn't know, or they're covering it up," Harry stated matter-of-factly. Theresa nodded with a frown.

"At least everyone got out safely," she said. Draco sighed heavily.

"I sincerely doubt that. If you have connections to muggle law enforcement, you should certainly check their reports for any unusual activity in the vicinity."

"He's right," Harry concurred. "The presence of muggle police outside the building is unquestionably indicates a larger motive."

"That's what I was afraid of. In the meantime, I suppose there's little more to be done. I'm sure there will be a briefing called, once I've filed my reports. I'll let you know."

"I'll look forward to your message," said Harry. "Is it alright to separate from here?"

"There's an apparition point in the lobby downstairs."

Theresa showed them back to the main entrance, where they all shook hands before Harry and Draco apparated to the stretch of beach between their docks.

"Well, that was certainly an eventful evening," Draco declared.

"I can almost hear McGonagall saying, 'Why must it always be _you,_ Potter?'" Harry mimicked the professor's brogue. Draco chuckled.

"Nonetheless, I must say that I did find the Quodpot match to be rather exhilarating and entertaining to watch." He shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Perhaps we can take the Albus and Scorpius if the opportunity comes 'round," Harry suggested. He glanced up towards his house. "I wonder if the boys are still up," she said more to himself than to the other wizard.

"You wouldn't perhaps…" Draco rocked on his heels. "Would you, erm…like to come up for a nightcap? I could certainly use a drink, after all this excitement."

They apparated into the family room, where Draco poured them each a measure of brandy.

"I, er," He took a seat on the sofa, and Harry sat opposite him. "I never really gave much thought to what you do—what Aurors do." He sipped. "They'd had always been painted as Ministry lackeys sent to meddle in our affairs."

"Well…" Harry began.

"I know." Draco held up his hand. "It isn't as if our affairs weren't deserving of such…close…scrutiny." He emptied his glass in one long swallow.

"Well, the past is done and gone, and there is precious little either of us can do at this point to change things—at least, not without a time-turner." Harry lifted his glass to his lips, but hesitated, just catching the slight sound of Draco clearing his throat. "You have a time-turner?" He lifted a brow.

"You didn't honestly think that the DMLE had confiscated _all_ of Father's artefacts, did you?"

"Draco—" Harry started, but Draco held up a hand.

"Relax, Potter. I'm certain that he's forgotten all about it at this point, and when the house fell to me, I made a point to secure certain items that I stumbled upon. He wouldn't know where to begin to look for it."

"You could go to prison, you know." Harry finished his brandy. "Theodore Nott was arrested just last year for possession of an advanced and unregistered Time-turner."

"I _could,_ but only if someone with intimate knowledge of my affairs were to become aware that I had such items in possession. As I am not _actually_ in possession of said artefact, nor do I have any plans to engage its use, _and_ as its current location is unplottable…" Draco raised a brow and set his glass aside.

"I'm not going to stitch you up," Harry replied. "Still, you should know, although you were acquitted, the Malfoys are still considered persons of interest to the DMLE." He too, set his glass aside.

"I can't say that comes as much of a surprise." He traced over the jacquard design with his fingertip. "I couldn't help but notice Ms. Belton's guarded demeanor."

"It's her job," Harry replied. "Still, she trusts my intel, and as I convinced Hermione some time ago to consider you a low priority, other than young Scorpius' recent escapades, there's been nothing to raise any concern."

"So you've been watching me…even after all these years?" Draco leveled his gaze at Harry.

"Well, I mean…" Harry averted his eyes. "It was just a matter of course," he replied.

"But you said we were 'low priority'. You could have passed the responsibility on to any of your subordinates—Weasley even." He leaned forward. Harry snorted.

"As per usual, you think too highly of yourself, Malfoy." Harry smirked and made to stand. Draco grabbed his hand.

* * *

" _Muffliato!"_ Scorpius lowered his wand as Albus locked his bedroom door. "That ought to do it." He grabbed Albus' hand and pulled him close.

Albus smiled tentatively, inhaling the citrusy scent that he'd come to associate with the other young wizard, and inclined his head, gently kissing his neck.

"Mmmmm!" Scorpius growled, his hands beneath Albus' shirt, fingers dancing over his back causing goosebumps to rise to his skin.

Albus gripped Scorpius' waist and pulled him closer, his breath hitching when he felt an unmistakable bulge against his own awakened manhood. He lifted his hands and began to unbutton Scorpius' shirt.

* * *

A trail of discarded clothing stretched from the double doors of the sitting room, past the double-sided fireplace that separated it from the bedroom of the master suite, right up to the regal bed where the once arch-rivals now lay in the throes of passion. Harry closed his eyes and clutched the sheets in his fists, breathing heavily as Draco lightly trailed his fingers over every inch of his skin.

"Merlin's wand! How do you—ohhhhh!" he moaned.

* * *

"Albus!" Scorpius breathed. Albus laced his fingers with Scorpius' as he rolled his hips down against his and kissed his jaw just below his ear. Scorpius let out a breathy sigh and pushed Albus as he rolled atop him.

"Oh, Albus!" Scorpius panted. He felt Albus' heartbeat pounding against his chest as he stretched his body out over him. He nipped at Albus' bottom lip and kissed along his jaw. Albus arched his back, shuddering with the sensation brought on from the way that Scorpius teased at the spot just behind his ear, just as he'd done to him.

"Oh! Ohhhh!" Albus cried out. "Mmmm!" His entire body seemed to tingle and he felt overcome with giddiness. It was a feeling that he couldn't quite place his finger upon, but which he was positive he'd never experienced before.

* * *

Harry let out another low moan as Draco began to kiss down his torso. Draco disappeared beneath the covers and a moment later, Harry bucked suddenly, letting out a gasp of surprise.

"Wha—" he pushed up onto his elbows. "Fucking hell!"

He stared down at Draco as he licked his member from base to tip, pausing a moment before licking away the jewel of precum there. "Oh my—ohhhhh!"

Draco took Harry in, pushing Harry's legs a little further apart and slowly began to slide his lips down his shaft. Harry moaned again and Draco moved a little faster, hollowing his cheeks. He bit his lip, his breath coming out in short bursts as he watched his prick disappear between Draco's smooth lips. He moaned as the pale-haired wizard's tongue swirled around his head.

* * *

Albus twined his fingers in Scorpius' hair and hooked his leg behind Albus' holding him close. He could barely breathe, and felt as if his heart could beat right out of his chest in this moment.

"I—please! I can't—I can't—" Albus let out a keening wail and a moment later, Scorpius did the same, shuddering with release.

"Wow! I—wow!" he exclaimed breathlessly as he rolled onto his back. "Are—are y-you alright?"

"Are _you?_ " Albus asked.

"I think—I think so. That was—"

* * *

"Intense!" Harry heaved a satiated sigh. "I, erm…I get the feeling that I'm not your first." He rolled onto his side to look at Draco, who took his hand, lacing their fingers.

"No," Draco replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'd always hoped that it would be you, but…" he sighed.

"You don't have to—" Harry began.

"There isn't much to tell." Draco rolled onto his back, but continued to hold Harry's hand. He stared up at the ceiling. "It was a one off. No one you know."

"He was a Death Eater?"

"Some bloke who came back from Germany with _him._ I was so stressed with all that was going on; the manor overrun, the school in chaos…I got completely shit-faced during the winter break, and one thing led to another."

"I see."

"I don't know what became of him. Rumor has it that the Dark Lord discovered his… _predilections,_ and he was summarily dispatched. I had too many other concerns to worry about at the time, so…" Draco shrugged again.

* * *

"I suppose we should get dressed," Scorpius suggested.

"Yeah," Albus yawned. He reluctantly pushed back the covers and summoned his pyjamas. Scorpius scoffed as he pulled on his pyjamas.

"What?" Albus stepped into the striped trousers and pulled a shirt over his head.

"Just…" Scorpius crawled across the bed and planted a soft kiss on Albus' lips. "You're amazing."


	23. Strange Bedfellows

The gates swung open silently and the convoy of black vehicles moved expeditiously up the sloping drive that curved towards the stately house. Suited security personnel stepped out of the first and third vehicles, alert eyes scanning their surroundings before one of them proceeded to the second car and opened the door. The gentleman inside exited and gave his lapels a tug, sniffing as he did so, and strode up to the door, which opened at his approach.

"Senator Hathorne." The butler greeted him with a slight bow. "Right this way, sir."

Arthur Hathorne gave the modest foyer a cursory glance as he was conveyed past the staircase to a set of double doors at the end of the corridor which swung open at their approach. He stepped into what appeared to be a library. The walls were lined with shelves of books on two levels. A large desk, whose cherry oak finish matched the woodwork, was prominent at one end of the room in front of tall, arched windows. A large conference table dominated the opposite end. Around it sat a number of important looking men and women, with Sinclair Purfield at the head. At the other end of the table, Daniel Barbon got to his feet with a broad smile.

"Hathorne! So good to see you again, my friend!"

"Dan." The two men shook hands and Barbon showed him to the only other empty chair at the table. "Now what exactly is this hush-hush gathering all about? You said it was a matter of imminent national security." Hathorne took in the gazes of the other occupants at the table as he sat.

"Senator Hathorne, I'm told you and the distinguished gentleman from Texas share similar family histories," said the blond gentleman at the head of the table.

"Arthur, allow me to introduce you to Mr. Sinclair Purfield, our host for the evening."

"Mr. Purfield." Hathorne nodded. "I don't believe I know to what you are referring. Mr. Barbon and I share no common ancestors."

"However, both the Hathorne and Barbon—or Barebone—as it was called at the time—families were involved in the exposure and eradication efforts against magic and witchcraft in our country's infancy."

Hathorne gave a snort. "High school literature and U.S. History. There's no such thing as magic."

"Ah, my friend," said Barbon. "That is where you are sadly mistaken."

"Honestly, Dan, just make it plain. Are you seriously telling me that you believe in witchcraft? D'you know what your constituents would say to that? You'll never get your reelection nomination! With all that's happened on Capitol Hill over that last administration, we can't be seen engaging in any sort of frivolous crusades. Leave that to Hollywood."

"Deuteronomy 18:10, Arthur. You are a god-fearing Christian, are you not?"

"Of course I am!" Hathorne gave him an indignant look.

"The New Salem Philanthropic Society is prepared to throw very generous support our way. They have provided incontrovertible proof that witches and wizards do in fact live among us. They are a danger to our national security, and we need to act _now_ to eradicate them!"

"And how exactly do you propose we do that?" Hathorne sat back in his chair with arms crossed. He was not yet entirely convinced.

"That, sir is where I come in," said Purfield as he leaned forward with a glint in his silver eyes.

* * *

Harry stretched and pushed himself up. "I suppose I should get going," he declared with a yawn, pushing back the sumptuous bed linens and casting about for his clothes. He blushed a bit with the memory of their fevered disrobing between the entrance of the master suite and the bed. As he made to stand, Draco caught his wrist.

"There's no need to rush," he said. "Stay…if you like." Harry paused and turned back towards Draco, who was stretched out on his side, propping g himself on an elbow. He smiled at Harry, who couldn't help but note a hint of wistfulness in the other man's expression.

"Draco, what…what do you want from me?" He asked. "Really?"

Draco pushed himself up and gazed intently in Harry's eyes. He felt his heart pounding painfully in his chest.

"I…everything, Harry. I want everything. I've already told you that you've held my heart from the very first time that I laid eyes upon you when we were eleven. I want to know you like no one else. Who are you Harry Potter?"

"What's to know? I was born. A madman killed my parents and gave me this scar. I found out I was wizard and spent my adolescence fighting to stay alive while the same madman tried to kill me. I died. I came back and now everyone thinks I'm the saviour of the wizarding world." Harry shrugged.

"I know all of that, Harry." Draco sighed impatiently and moved closer to him. He settled himself behind Harry, his legs on either side of his. He placed his hands on his shoulders. "I want to know who you _really_ are. What makes you smile when you think no one is watching? What is that secret fantasy that you've never shared with anyone? What do you dream about at night?" He kneaded Harry's shoulders as he spoke. Harry closed his eyes, instinctively leaning into him, and Draco's late night stubble tickled the side of his neck as he spoke close to his ear, his voice low and husky.

"What do you see when you read my mind?" He asked. Harry's eyes snapped open, and he stiffened.

"Read your—I don't—" Harry tried to turn to him, but Draco wrapped his arms about him and kissed along his neck, eliciting a soft moan.

"But you _are_ a legilimens. You as much as let me know on the first day of school at Greyswood." He nipped at Harry's shoulder.

"Well, yes, but—mmm—that was only to…" he panted softly, struggling to focus under Draco's ministrations, his groin stirring to life once more. "…to help you out. I would never invade another's psyche for my own personal gain I'm not _him,_ Draco."

Draco inhaled sharply and left the bed, summoning his dressing gown as he went to the window. Harry watched him for a moment, before getting to his feet.

"I'm sorry. After all these years, I didn't think it would still be raw for you."

"It's not," Draco replied without turning. "Is this serious to you, Harry? Because, as I've already told you, it is for me. If all I needed was a mindless shag, I'm sure I'd have no problem finding a willing partner. I've laid myself bare in the hope that now that the war is over, time has passed, you will be able to look at me differently, that you'll see the wizard you testified for and for whom you secured a pardon." Draco turned to face him, and suppressed a gasp of delight when his gaze fell upon the other wizard, who stood before him, naked as the statue of David. "Why did you do that?"

"Do what?" Harry began to feel slightly uncomfortable under Draco's piercing gaze. He summoned his shirt and pulled it on.

"You testified for us—for Mother and for Lucius and Me. Then you testified for Scorpius. Why?"

"I thought—because you didn't deserve to go to prison, Draco. It's little secret that Lucius' desperate quest for power and position is what entangled your family in the cause. The Malfoys didn't fight in the end. Your mother saved my life. She _lied_ to him."

"In all honesty, would seriously question whether Lucius learned as lesson at all. Mother is a question." Draco moved into the sitting area, flicking his wand to collect the discarded clothing into a neatly folded pile, and again to light a small fire in the hearth.

"What about you?" Harry asked, following him. He curled up on one end of the sofa.

"As I recall, we weren't talking about me?"

"You asked why I testified for you."

"And you gave a rather pat response." Draco draped himself over the opposite end of the sofa, crossing his legs.

"And yet you felt the need to analyze your parents' changed behavior or lack thereof, but omitted your own self-examination." Harry gazed intently at him. Draco said nothing for a long moment, instead stared, unseeing, through the gauzy curtains to the lights dancing on the water below. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and husky.

"You know, they held us at Azkaban before our trials. The dementors may be gone, but despair hangs in the very stone of that place. By the end of the first day, I was ready to pack it all in. Hours felt like days, and days like weeks. The first week was hell on earth, and you couldn't have convinced me that it had only been seven days. I…I was scratching at the walls, just praying that I could dislodge any small jagged bit of rock."

"You couldn't have dismantled even a section of wall," said Harry. "Surely you knew that."

"I wasn't trying to escape, Potter. I-" Draco pushed up his sleeve, revealing the faded tattoo. Harry noticed that the serpent-tongued skull was marred by thin lines that crisscrossed the damning image.

"You—wait—at the trial…I remember thinking to myself that the sleeves of your robes seemed oddly oversized." Harry gave him an incredulous look. Draco traced a finger over one of the longer scars that seemed to cross the eyes of the mark.

"I cut a bit too deep there. I might have bled out, had I not the misfortune of attempting my makeover mere minutes before the nightly meal rounds." He pulled his sleeve down, gripping it tightly for a moment and heaved a sigh, looking into the fire. "It just didn't matter to me. I'd stopped having any semblance of control over my life ages ago, and I was certain that I was going to spend the rest of my days on that godforsaken rock, so why not get on with it? Better to do the deed myself than have it slowly drained from me in tortuous anguish. It was if the very stone was whispering to me. ' _Do it!_ '"

"However, deep down, you don't have a true affinity for the dark arts."

"How would you know?" Draco gave Harry a look of indignation mixed with fear. His discovery that Harry was a legilimens had unnerved him at best, conjuring unsettling memories of the Dark Lord's unspeakable acts of possession.

"I've already told you. Your inability to murder an innocent person, just for starters. I mean, you couldn't even muster up the vehemence necessary to carry a cruciatus curse on me the night we dueled. There was the tiniest will to survive. You'd already been through hell and made it out alive. And frankly, I'm here to tell you, dying is rather anticlimactic," Harry muttered. Draco scoffed.

"Well, I wouldn't imagine it's the same as faking one's death to escape a madman, but that's hardly what I was thinking at the time." Draco turned his gaze back to Harry. "I've always wanted to know…how did you manage it? How did you get Mother, of all people, to lie for you?"

"Never underestimate a mother's love for her child, Draco." Harry skirted the first question. "The only thing that mattered to Narcissa was that you were safe."

"Yes, but how did you block the killing curse? There were dozens of witnesses."

Harry sighed. He didn't want to have discussion.

"I didn't block the curse. Tom Riddle killed me…sort of."

"Sort of?" Draco looked at him skeptically. Harry sighed again.

He argued with himself about revealing everything to Draco. As it was, he want entirely certain of what their relationship was just yet. On second thought, sharing this secret might just be the test that they needed.

"No one alive knows what I'm about to tell you, not even Hermione or Ron." Harry placed both feet on the floor, resting his elbows on his knees.

"What is it?" Draco moved a little closer to Harry, gripping the edge of the sofa cushion in suspense. What powerful magic could Harry have employed that he would keep it a secret even from his two closest friends, he wondered.

"I…erm…I would assume, given your background, that you have heard of a…horcrux—" No sooner had the second syllable fallen from Harry's lips, than Draco leapt to his feet and away from him, staring incredulously.

"Merlin's balls! A horcrux? You created a _horcrux?_ Harry, you _murdered_ someone?" Draco began to pace anxiously.

He knew that horcrux creation was among the darkest and most dangerous magic ant wizard or witch could perform, and there was only one book, **_Secrets of the Darkest Art_** , which had detailed information on the method and consequences of creating a Horcrux. It was the one tome in the Malfoy library which was kept under spell and key, and Lucius had expressly forbidden Draco to even touch it. Now, here was Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world, confessing to have created one. Draco was so absorbed in his astonishment, that he'd barely registered Harry's voice until the dark haired wizard was standing in front of him.

Draco instinctively stepped backward as Harry approached him, and it did not escape his notice that the fingers of the blonde's wand hand twitched just slightly.

"You're not listening, Draco. I've never murdered anyone, and I've not made a horcrux. I wouldn't even know where to begin to create such a foul thing."

"But—I—" Draco raked his fingers through his hair.

"Tom Riddle released the basilisk into Hogwarts when he was a student. It killed Myrtle Warren."

" _Moaning Myrtle?_ " Draco's eyes grew wide.

"Yes. He blamed Hagrid, who was secretly keeping an acromantula, and Hagrid was excluded and had his wand snapped." At this, Draco's mouth dropped open.

"But what does this have to do with—"

"Riddle split his soul repeatedly, and used the fragments to make horcruxes." Harry turned back to the sofa, sitting heavily. "The night Dumbledore was…killed…"

It was Draco's turn to sigh heavily. He crossed his arms, gripping his sleeves tightly as if to ward off the cold.

"He and I had just returned from retrieving one of them. It turned out to be a fake, however." Harry raked his fingers through his hair. "Hermione and Ron and I were on the run, searching for the horcruxes we hadn't managed to destroy."

"I-you—"

"The diary…"

"What?"

"Dumbledore was already dying when Snape killed him. They had agreed that you wouldn't be the one. Snape had even made a vow to your mum that he would protect you."

Draco felt weak in the knees. He stumbled to the sofa and collapsed onto it.

"Wait. I thought you said nobody knew—not even Granger and Weasley."

"Hermione and Ron knew about the horcruxes Riddle had consciously created. There were six."

" _Six?_ "

"But there was another he never meant to create." Draco stared at him in confusion. Harry sighed again and sat down once more. Draco edged away just slightly and Harry pursed his lips before plunging ahead.

"The first time he tried to kill me, the curse rebounded and struck him instead. So, being that he was unable to place it into a suitable vessel of his choosing, the remaining fragment of his soul took refuge in the only living thing available."

Draco let out a choked gasp, his eyes wide as saucers as he looked Harry up and down.

"He—you—it— _you?_ "

"Yes. However, I don't know if I could actually be considered a horcrux, given that the full process was not complete. I—I don't know, and honestly, I don't care." Harry chose to leave out his realization that he could see into Voldemort's thoughts and the havoc it wreaked upon him during his fifth year and beyond. "Riddle cast the killing curse and for a brief moment, I died. I was able to return because the curse destroyed the fragment of _his_ soul that resided within me, leaving me unharmed—mostly." Harry looked up to find Draco staring at him, a question in his eyes. "Please don't ask me what happened when I died. I won't tell you. I haven't told anyone, nor do I ever plan to." Harry considered the interaction he'd had with Dumbledore intensely personal. He didn't think he could trust anyone with the fact that he had considered going on and not returning to finish the fight.

"I—I wasn't…" Draco realized how tightly he had been holding himself since Harry's first mention of a horcrux, and he began to feel a bit ashamed. Looking at Harry in this moment, he saw something that in all of the years of knowing him—or at least as he had known him in his youth—he had never noticed. Harry was quite vulnerable emotionally. Even more than twenty years after the end of the war, the wizard was burdened with profound secrets. He wondered how Harry even managed any semblance of sanity.

"My parents," Harry murmured softly.

"What?" Draco was shaken out of his ruminations.

"I dream about my parents," Harry said. "I don't remember much about them, but I often dream about what it would be like if they had lived."

"Oh, heh. I suppose that is what I'd asked you, isn't it?" Draco attempted a smile.

"It is."

"Could I—why do you call him Riddle?" he asked. Harry snorted.

" _That's_ what you want to know?"

"Well…" Draco shrugged.

"His name is Tom Riddle. Nothing else matters. Lord Voldemort is just a bastardization of that—a creation to make himself seem greater than he was—kind of like The Boy Who Lived, or The Chosen One." He rolled his eyes.

"I rather like The Chosen One," Draco smirked. He closed the small distance between himself and Harry, until they were sitting shoulder to shoulder. Harry gave him a nudge. Draco reached up and turned Harry's chin with a finger. "I like it a lot." Silver eyes gazed into green ones before lips met.

As the first rays of sunshine danced over the waters of Greyswood Lake, Harry lay in Draco's arms, his mind swirling with the realization that he was beginning to fall seriously for his childhood rival, and wondered what it meant for his already tumultuous family situation.


	24. What's Done in the Dark

_I am sooo sorry it has taken me so long to update! First, there was writer's block, then a huge work project right at the holidays. Finally, a bit of inspiration struck. I know, this is a bit of a cliffhanger, but I wanted to give you a little something before the new year. Thanks soo much to everyone who has favorite and reviewed!_

* * *

Albus stirred slightly wrinkling his nose away from the tickling sensation that threatened to make him sneeze. He stroked the soft fur of the animal slumbering quietly beside him. Wait—Albus was certain that he'd placed Gonçalo into his cage the night before. The ferret was never given to sleeping with him. As his hand moved over the soft fur, Albus also realized that this creature was significantly larger than a mustelid. Albus awakened suddenly and fully, and inhaled sharply as he scrambled from the bed, eyes glued to the albino panther purring softly in his bed.

"Merlin's beard!" he whispered. "Did I do that?" he wondered, and where was Scorpius?

"Scorpius?" he murmured, quietly tiptoeing around the room, checking the wardrobe and looking under the bed. "Scorpius?" he said a little louder, hoping to find the other young wizard hiding in the en suite.

The large cat opened its eyes and stretched languidly before sitting up and staring at Albus.

"N-nice kitty," Albus said, backing away carefully. The animal looked at him curiously. Albus bumped his wardrobe. The panther let out a strange sound, not unlike a yelp, and scrambled from the bed, falling to the floor on the other side. Albus wasn't sure whether the shriek he'd heard came from his throat or not as he leapt atop the wardrobe.

"W-what the hell!" Scorpius rubbed his head, where he'd hit it when he fell to the floor. "Albus, did you _really_ transfigure me into a _large cat?_ "

" _Me? No way!_ I was _sleeping!_ "

"Then—Merlin's wand! What are you doing up there?" Scorpius got to his feet, staring up at where Albus was precariously perched atop the large chiffonier.

"Well, what did you expect me to do when I woke to find a bleedin' white panther in my bed!?" Albus carefully climbed down. "What happened?" he gasped. "Are you an animagus?"

"Don't you think you'd have remembered me walking around with a mandrake leaf in my mouth for a _month?_ "

"Oh, right. Well—wait—but surely you'd have known that by now."

"You're babbling, Potter." Scorpius cautiously looked at himself in the full-length mirror, feeling his cheeks for the presence of whiskers.

"Is it possible that you're a _metamorphmagus?"_ Albus shrugged. "Have you ever changed your features before?" he stood behind Scorpius at the mirror.

"No." Scorpius stuck out his tongue. "I thought metamorphs expressed the skill like at birth, don't they?"

"Well, I heard Teddy's hair colour changed constantly when he was a baby," Albus replied. "Maybe it was nothing."

"Are you _sure_ you didn't accidentally hex me in your sleep?" Scorpius gave him a suspicious look in the glass.

"Well, I certainly wasn't dreaming of cuddling up to a big cat." Albus cheeks burned red at the brief memory of his somewhat torrid dreams. Scorpius suppressed a snicker. "If you aren't an animagus, and I didn't transfigure you, there's nothing left to explain it, except metamorphmagic. What do we know about it?" Albus began to pace.

"Well, metamorphmagi are born…"

"Like Teddy. You know, he _is_ your cousin, so it's entirely possible…"

"But evidence of metamorphmagic is present early after birth," Scorpius argued.

"But your mother was ill," Albus countered. "Your birth was somewhat traumatic was it not? Didn't Professor McGonagall say something about the abilities of a metamorphmagus being affected by their emotional state?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well, let's face it, love. Your household was tense during your childhood, school was shite, and then…" Albus let the thought hang in the air. He knew that Mrs. Malfoy's death was especially difficult for Scorpius and he'd always done his best to keep his friend's thoughts focused on more positive emotions. "Maybe just try something else. See if you can change your hair colour."

"Are you joking?" Scorpius stared at him incredulously. "I don't even know _how!_ "

"Well, Teddy says he just decides how he wants to look and concentrates on the idea until his appearance changes. Just try it! See if you can make your hair…green!" Albus suggested. Scorpius stared at him for several moments. "Come on!"

"Fine!" he huffed. They went to the mirror and Albus stood behind Scorpius.

"Just concentrate. Visualize yourself with green hair."

"Would you shush!" Scorpius snapped. He gazed at himself in the mirror, silently chanting. _Green hair…green hair…green hair…_ He closed his eyes.

"Holy Merlin!" Albus exclaimed. Scorpius opened his eyes and let out a gasp. His long, tousled bangs were no longer their characteristic platinum-white, but a vibrant deep green color.

"Whoa!" He reached up and raked his fingers through the verdant tresses. "I—I'm…"

"Try something else!" Albus insisted.

"Like what?"

"I dunno!" They stood in the mirror for several minutes. Scorpius let out a short, uncertain sigh. "See if you can change your hair back," Albus suggested.

"Oh, yeah. Hmm." Scorpius closed his eyes, and imagined himself with his normal features. After a few seconds, his white-blond hair had returned.

"But how did you turn into the panther?" Albus wondered.

"Well, I was dreaming about a book I'd read not long ago. It was about a boy who was raised by animals in the jungles of India…I'm a metamorphmagus!" he murmured.

"You can change into _anything!_ "

"I—I have to speak to Father!" Scorpius summoned his clothes and began to pull them on. He had one leg into his trousers when he paused, giving Albus an anxious look. "Shit! Do you think he'll be displeased?"

"Why would he be?" Albus summoned clothing from his wardrobe and began to dress. "He's your father."

"I just—do you _really_ think that I've been so emotionally fragile all this time that we never knew?"

"I don't think you're emotionally fragile, Scorpius. You're a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for." Albus zipped his trousers and ran his fingers through his tousled hair.

"Said the pot to the kettle," Scorpius smirked. He held out his hand, summoning his wand from where it lay on the night table beside Albus'. "Speaking of…how did you get atop the cupboard?"

"I…er…" Albus looked from Scorpius to the tall closet and then to his wand on the other side of the room. He gave a bemused shrug.

"Dad! We're going to Scorpius' house!" Albus called out as they passed the closed doors of the master bedroom a few minutes later. There was no response. "Dad?" Albus knocked and after a few seconds, he pushed open the doors. The room was empty, and the bed appeared untouched. "Hmm. Daaad!" he shouted, as they made their way downstairs.

Harry didn't appear to be home at all.

"Maybe he's gone to the shop?" Scorpius suggested.

"I guess so." Albus screwed up his face in confusion, wondering why Harry hadn't at least left him a note or a patronus message. He carefully locked the door and followed Scorpius across the adjoining lawns to the Malfoy house.

* * *

"It doesn't do anything," Hathorne declared, waving around one of the ornately carved batons that lay on the table.

The meeting had lasted into the night. The members of the NSPS had laid out their platform and offered a substantial amount of cash towards Barbon and Hathorne's campaign funds in exchange for their support.

"It doesn't do anything for you, Senator, because you don't have any magic." Sinclair Purfield rolled his eyes. He slipped the wand hidden in his sleeve down to his hand and gave it a flick, drawing back the heavy draperies.

"And you do?"

"Unfortunately." Purfield grimaced.

"It seems that the ability to perform magic would be a good thing then. What else can you do with this thing?"

"That's just it, Art! Witches and warlocks or whatever they are called have the potential to completely upend _normal_ life as we know it! 'Magic makes the magician seem powerful while at the same time allowing him to glorify himself in the eyes of others.' It says so right in the good book! These… _people_ have the ability to _control_ people's minds! They can extort money, and influence desperate people with their powers!"

"What exactly do you propose we do? Just round up innocent people!" Hathorne insisted. "We can't do that!"

"Can't we?" Barbon snorted.

"Dan! Have you forgotten how the administration was _eviscerated_ in the press over the immigration detainments?" Hathorne argued. "It's a dangerous precedent."

"This is different, Art! Tell him, Sinclair!" Barbon insisted.

"It's true. They have an entire hidden empire right under our noses. My grandfather left home and renounced our family's magical ways because of their secretive nature and supremacist attitudes towards non magical people. I was raised to abhor magic, but I kept it as a defense against my corrupt kin."

"So what do you propose we do then? How can we even manage to control them if they have powers beyond our own?" asked Hathorne.

"Well, the first task is to begin to expose them," said Barbon. "Prevent access to this weaponry, right Purfield?"

"It's a step in the right direction. Few witches and wizards can perform magic without wands. If we control the wands, we control their defenses. We have to expose and topple their leadership—"

"Leadership?"

"All highly organized cults have a well-organized system of government. If we take down the most influential members before they have an opportunity to organize themselves, we tip the scales in our favor. The detainees we have now are small potatoes. We need a high profile arrest. I had hoped that the exposure of their event in Kansas City would do the trick, but they were prepared for the strike. We need someone on the inside. I have operatives ready to go. We just need to know we have government support."

"I don't know, Dan." Hathorne shook his head skeptically.

"What if you can show us with something small scale, but significant?" Barbon looked to Sinclair.

"It's got to be the right situation." He rubbed his chin. "I think I have just the target. Give me some time, and I'll let you know."

* * *

Harry burrowed deeper into the sumptuous bedding, Draco's arm draped across his chest. He didn't recall when or how they found themselves back in the bed, and was too tired to care, just barely stirring at the sound of approaching voices.

"Father! I'm home!" Scorpius called out as he and Albus entered the house. They passed through the quiet kitchen, noting the stillness in the atmosphere.

"Perhaps he's having a lie-in," said Albus. Scorpius paused at the foot of the sweeping staircase.

* * *

"Father! Are you awake?" Harry was certain now that he was not dreaming. He bolted upright in the bed.

"Shit!" He hissed. His sudden arousal started Draco, who gave a slight yelp.

"What?" He growled.

"Scorpius!" Harry whispered.

* * *

"He won't be cross if we wake him, will he?"

"Albus!" Harry quietly exclaimed.

"Shit!" Draco leapt out of bed, summoning his dressing gown. "En suite! Go!" He urgently whispered, motioning towards the lavatory.

"Scorpius, need I remind you of how indecorous it is to _shout_ inside the house." He hastened to the bedroom door, sending Harry's clothing with a wave of his wand as he went. Checking over his shoulder, Draco pulled the door open a small margin.

"My apologies, sir. I…could we—"

"Scorpius has something rather important to show you, Mr. Malfoy," Albus interjected. The older Malfoy gave him a guarded look.

"I shall be with you shortly, gentlemen. Scorpius, why don't you offer young Potter a spot of breakfast, if you have not yet eaten?"

"Yes, Father." Scorpius tapped Albus on the shoulder and turned away.

Draco closed the door and secured it with a charm. He leaned against it for a moment, taking in a deep breath.

"Psst!"

He looked up to see Harry peeking from the en suite doors.

"Coast is clear," Draco sighed.

"Do you think they know I never came home?" Harry wondered aloud, his voice low as he buttoned his shirt.

"They didn't appear to be concerned as such. Your boy mentioned that Scorpius had something important to show me."

"Really? Did they seem anxious or worried? I hope Albus hasn't broken anything."

"Not worried, perhaps mildly apprehensive." Draco shrugged.

"I'll apparate home and change, then come back here just in case." Harry pulled on his shoes.

"How will you explain where you've been?" Draco asked, summoning fresh clothes.

"I went early to the shop to check on things." He summoned his wand and shoved it into his pocket. Draco pulled a face. That just might work.

"Just go. I'll handle it." Draco waved him off. "Since beginning to teach, I've come to learn that the simplest things are crises to these youths."

Harry gave him a skeptical shrug and disapparated. Draco hastily pulled on a jogging suit, sliding his feet into a pair of designer slippers and made his way downstairs where he found the teens each huddled over bowls of cold cereal.

Draco suppressed the urge to turn up his nose at what he considered to be a meager breakfast. He'd noticed as a student at Hogwarts, that many of the students gravitated towards the flakes of ground corn or puffed wheat swimming in bowls of cold milk that he'd always been led to believe was a beggar's feast. The very idea was cemented in his mind following the war, during his brief incarceration at Azkaban, where the cold cereal was the main course of every breakfast the inmates were served. As such, he'd developed a complete aversion to the convenience food.

"Good morning, gentlemen." He flicked his wand and an array of ingredients for frittata Florentine sailed out of the refrigerator and onto the granite island countertop.

Scorpius immediately straightened his back and assumed a more aristocratic posture. Albus rolled his eyes at him, but also abandoned his convict-like eating position.

"So, what is this _urgent thing_ that I must see? Have the two of you developed a potion to cure spattergroit overnight?" Draco smirked as he set knives to chop the fillings while he whisked eggs in a bowl.

"N-no sir, erm…" Scorpius looked apprehensively at Albus. Draco paused in the stirring of his eggs.

"Mr. Malfoy, how well do you know my god-brother, Teddy?" Albus asked, setting his spoon into his empty bowl with a clatter. Draco was unprepared for such an abrupt change of topic, and sputtered a moment as he answered.

"W-well, to be quite honest, I don't, Albus. My mother chose not to consort with my aunt Andromeda during my youth, due to the fact that she chose to break with the family tradition of arranged pureblood marriage. I never knew Nymphadora at all, really, and had only the acquaintance of knowing his father during his brief tenure as a lecturer at Hogwarts. I understand young Lupin is a talented quidditch player, and like his mother, he's a metamorphmagus, yes?" Albus nodded.

"Have there been other metamorphmagi in your family?"

"I honestly couldn't say." Draco shrugged. "Of course, I suppose it's little secret that the Malfoys and the Blacks have historically had little tolerance for any…shall we say… _deviations_ …from the highest standards of pureblood status and tradition." Scorpius pushed his bowl away, sloshing a bit of excess milk in the process.

"Shouldn't we be getting started on the essay assignment for English?" He noisily pushed his seat back from the counter.

"What essay?" Albus looked at him strangely. Scorpius gave him a pointed look. " _Oh! Right!"_ Albus slipped from his seat and the two turned to go.

"Just a moment, gentlemen." Draco suspended the incantations that were helping prep his meal, and crossed to where the boys stood nervously. "I was unceremoniously roused from a leisurely lie-in to bear witness to what was presented to me as a matter of some importance. Yet, when I arrived in the kitchen, I was interrogated about my genetic lineage and metamorphmagi." He crossed his arms, lifting a brow. Albus and Scorpius both shifted from one foot to the other, looking askance. "Well?"

Scorpius recognized the menacing tone in his father's voice and knew there was no getting out of the situation.

"I think I might be a metamorphmagus," he blurted. Draco stared at him a moment before bursting into peals of laughter.

"Are you having me on?" he chortled before his face turned serious again. "Scorpius, have you— _have you become an animagus?_ Have you _any_ idea how dangerous that process is? Not to mention that one is required to register with the government!"

"No, Father, I—" Scorpius attempted to explain.

"It's true, Mr. Malfoy. I saw him with my own eyes!" Albus interjected. "Show him, Scorpius."

"I—" Scorpius heaved a sigh. He took a deep breath and concentrated.

Draco stared at his son with exasperation, watching the teen's face screwed up with concentration. A moment later, his jaw dropped as a regal blue-grey Weimaraner stood before him. His jaw dropped.

"S-sc-Scorpius?" he stammered. The large dog gave a bark. Draco let out a short gasp.

* * *

Harry apparated into his bedroom and went directly to the en suite for a shower. Emerging refreshed several minutes later, he quickly summoned clean clothes and headed down the back stairs towards the kitchen. He paused halfway down, and slid his wand from his pocket as he pressed himself against the wall.

Someone was moving about in the kitchen. He hadn't taken long to get dressed, and as he knew the boys were occupied with whatever "something" they were showing Draco, he was certain that it was not likely Albus. He crept stealthily down the remaining steps. When he reached the bottom, Harry disillusioned himself and leaned around the corner, peering into the kitchen with his wand pointed.

"Oi! What are you playing at?" He exclaimed with exasperation, dropping the invisibility charm. "I very nearly cursed you, y'know."

Harry pocketed his wand leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed. Teddy Lupin grinned around an egg sandwich.

"I wanted to surprise you," he mumbled, swallowing hard and smiling again, his hair turning bright blue. "Where's Albus?" he asked

"He's at—" Harry hesitated. "With a friend. What are you doing here, and how did you even get in?" He went to the refrigerator and took a bottle of juice, summoning a glass from the cupboard.

"I'm a wizard, godfather. I simply apparated inside. _And_ if you'd bother to write from time to time, you'd know that the Albuquerque Ashwinders offered me a trial."

"American Quidditch? What happened to Falmouth? I thought you were preparing to try for Team Britain?"

"Well, I'll never catch the attention of the national team, as a reserve chaser with next to no flying time, will I? Albuquerque is talking about a signing salary of 310000 dragons and a starting position!" Teddy summoned the juice bottle and lifted it to his lips. Harry gave him a stern look, and he summoned a glass.

"Wow."

"Yeah. That's _three times_ what I'm making at Falmouth, and then some."

"And what is Andromeda's position on this idea?" Harry asked.

"You know gran." Teddy shrugged. "She wants me to stay a baby forever. I, erm, didn't tell her that I was coming." He avoided Harry's gaze.

"Teddy—" Harry began.

"I hardly think you're in any position to chastise, Harry." The young wizard gave his godfather a pointed look. Harry heaved a sigh of concession and rolled his eyes. "So…what's the deal with you and Ginny?"

"What do you mean?" Harry narrowed his eyes.

"I mean, what's the _deal?_ You can't have simply decided to go halfway around the globe, with Albus in tow, I might add, simply for a job with ICW. Things have been frosty between the two of you for a while now," he said. "And there's this."

"What?" Harry asked as Teddy reached into his jacket pocket. He retrieved a folded newspaper and pushed it across the counter top towards him.

Harry unfurled it to see that it was a copy of the Daily Prophet. It appeared to be a special edition from the World Cup coverage. He scanned the page curiously and looked back up at his godson. Teddy tossed back the juice in his glass and flicked his wand. A section of one of the pictures leaped from the page and magnified itself in front of Harry, who pushed his glasses up on his nose and leaned closer to the image.

"I honestly thought I'd imagined what I saw at the Junior League final, but this definitely isn't my imagination."

"I—" Harry flicked his wand, and the image vanished. He pushed the paper back towards Teddy.

"Did you know?" Teddy asked. Harry pursed his lips and sighed again as he nodded. "When were you going to tell me that you and Ginny split up?"

"We haven't split. We're…" Harry faltered. He didn't know what he and Ginny were doing. They hadn't agreed to split, but their efforts to communicate were tragic at best. "…Trying to figure it out." He traced over a vein in the stone counter top. "I suppose Rita Skeeter is having a field day right about now."

"So far, no one seems to have noticed, but you can be assured that James _isn't_ best pleased with his mum at the moment."

Harry opened his mouth to reply when his phone alerted him that he had received a text message. He swipe across the screen to see a note from Draco.

 _There has been something of an unexpected development. If you might see your way to return to my home as soon as possible, please, I would be most appreciative._

"Listen, I need to respond to this. Erm, are you—are you—how long do you plan to stay?" He asked, flicking his wand to return the juice and send the dishes to the sink.

"Wow, don't shoot the messenger." Teddy vanished the offending newspaper and held his hands up in surrender. "I'd hoped to stick around for a day or two, at least see Albus maybe?" He scrunched his face and took on the appearance of a small puppy. Harry rolled his eyes and suppressed a grin. "I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to be the bearer of bad news. My portkey back to England isn't for another week, Albuquerque sprang for some sightseeing time while I'm here, so I can always head—"

"No, no! Stay!" Harry insisted. "I mean—I didn't mean to give you the impression that you weren't welcome. Albus would love to see you, I'm sure. I've just got to nip over to the neighbors' for a bit, and then how'd you like to see the shop?"

"The shop?" Teddy raise a brow.

"I'm undercover, Ted." Harry started towards the front door. "Make yourself at home. I shouldn't be long."

"Great!" Teddy clapped his hands, rubbing them together mischievously. Harry paused as he reached for the doorknob, and turned back to his godson.

"Hey, just remember that this is a muggle community, so…" he gave him a guarded look of warning.

"Right-o!" Teddy gave him a thumbs up. Harry returned the gesture nervously before exiting.

* * *

The doorbell rang, and Draco shook himself out of his stupefaction. Albus let out a gasp and turned to Scorpius, who immediately returned to his human state, as his father hurried to the door. Draco exhaled loudly upon seeing Harry standing there.

"Why didn't you apparate over?" he asked.

"Slight complication. I'll explain later. What's the emergency?" Harry followed Draco through to the kitchen, where both boys stood beside one another with apprehensive expressions, which he noticed softened a bit at his arrival.

"Not an emergency as such," Draco explained. "Rather…shall we say an unsettling discovery." He gestured to Albus and Scorpius. Harry's eyes grew wide and a bubble of panic settled in his belly.

"Do they—"

" _No."_ Draco gave him a pointed look, brows raised.

"Ahem," Harry schooled his features. "Okay, what exactly is going on?" he asked. Draco let out a short sigh and tossed his hair, a gesture that reminded Harry of the way Lucius responded when embarrassed or uncomfortable.

"Scorpius." He gestured to his son, who took a small step forward, eyes cast to the floor.

"What is it?" Harry asked, glancing between the young blond and his own son.

Scorpius took a deep breath and closed his eyes tightly. A moment later, Harry took a step back, staring at the dog in front of him in disbelief.

"Oh! Y-you're an animagus?" he stammered as Scorpius returned to human form. "When did you learn—"

"Well—" Scorpius began.

"You do realize, you'll have to register—wait a minute—Albus have you—" Harry looked between the two young wizards.

"Dad! He's not an animagus!" Albus interjected.

"What?"

"It appears that my son possesses metamorphmagic," said Draco.

"Are you sure? I mean—I would have thought you'd have discovered this at the time of Scorpius' birth, right?"

"I assure you, Potter, there wasn't the faintest indication." Draco raked his fingers through his hair and drifted into the family room where he sank onto the sofa. "Of course…the circumstances of his birth were so stressful…how could I have missed…" He leapt to his feet and began to pace.

"You know, I recall Tonks struggled with her abilities for awhile after Sirius died. I—wait!" Harry exclaimed. The others all looked at him expectantly. "Just—I'll be right back!" He disapparated with a pop.

* * *

"Is that a cinema?" Teddy spun around when Harry appeared in the foyer. "A real cinema? Right in your house? Wow! Muggles are—"

"Ted, listen," Harry interrupted him, leading him back to the kitchen, where they sat at the bar. "There's something I need to tell you."

"Ohh-kaay?" Teddy looked at him, expectantly.

"Okay, well—this is totally coincidence—and I had no idea before we arrived—"

"You're making me nervous, Harry."

"Right, about the neighbors—"

"I promise, I won't do any magic in front of the neighbors. I _have_ been around muggles before, you know."

"Yeah, I know, but—well the family next door…" Harry paused and took a breath. "They're not muggles."

"Oh. Brilliant! How'd you find that out?" Teddy asked. "Why are you being so cagey about it? Wait—you haven't started up some kind of relationship with the witch next door, have you?"

"What—no!" Harry lied, hoping his cheeks did not betray him. "Listen! The neighbors…" he exhaled slowly. "It's Draco and Scorpius Malfoy."

"You're joking. Malfoys…in America?" Teddy stared at him incredulously. Harry shook his head. "You're serious? Why?"

"It's a long story. Suffice it to say, Draco wanted to make a fresh start, and they thought they would learn about the muggle world." Harry shrugged. Teddy let out a snort.

"Malfoys learning about muggles! Ha! So, I guess that's where Albus is right now? Everyone knows those two have been thick as thieves since year one. Personally, I would have thought they'd have begun dating by now."

"What?" Harry looked at him curiously. "Anyway. I…need you to come with me to their house. I'll explain once we're there."

"Is everything okay?" Teddy looked at him skeptically.

"Sure, sure! Everything's fine. I just—let's go." Harry grabbed Teddy's hand and turned.


End file.
